The Trouble With Horses
by elizabethann.west.7
Summary: Posting-in-Progress, celebrating the 5-year anniversary of this publication and I'm returning to to post my backlist stories. This is the first JAFF story I wrote that wonders what if Elizabeth saved Mr. Darcy on the evening of the assembly from a riding accident?
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: In 2017, I was chased off this site by Critics United and my personal life was falling apart that ultimate ended in a divorce and cross-country move. It's 2019 and the 5 year anniversary of this story, The Trouble with Horses, so I think it's very fitting to celebrate by posting it here. This was the first story idea I published in JAFF, and I just published #20 in May. Here's to 20 more! Oh, and if some silly group on here wants to threaten me for posting FREE STORIES, I say go find something better to do. We're going to post regardless. -EAW_

Chapter 1

A riderless black stallion interrupted Elizabeth Bennet's quiet reflection in the rudest manner. Atop her favorite prospect, Oakham Mount, she watched the horse burst through the woods on the south side and jaunt up the hill. Frowning, Elizabeth made a most uncharacteristic move — she jumped into the path of the beast!

"WHOA! WHOA!"

The midnight inked horse startled at the sudden presence of a human in its path. Years of training won out, and the animal stopped before the diminutive woman. Elizabeth's head barely rose above the great horse's muzzle, but she held up her hand for the animal to sniff.

Stroking his nose, Elizabeth reached with her left hand to grab the loose reins. The stallion stomped his front feet impatiently, and Elizabeth continued her calming ministrations.

"I take it you too escaped from an unpleasant task? No?" Elizabeth raised her eyebrows at the horse, thinking about her own escape from Longbourn, her family's ancestral manor just below and to the east. That very evening was to be the local assembly. Possessing five unmarried daughters, her mother bellowed commands with her full-fledged nervousness over the girls' preparations. Elizabeth had been instructed to rest, but instead used a distraction in the parlor to slip out the back door usually reserved for servant use.

The horse snorted heavily into Elizabeth's hand. She gave him one last pat. "No matter how necessary the escape, we must not completely dismiss our duties, hm? You should have a rider upon you, and yet, no rider do I see."

The horse shook his head just as Elizabeth began to walk him in the direction of her home. With a strong pull, the horse's neck reached away to guide Elizabeth down the hill in the opposite direction, nearly the path on which he came. Elizabeth laughed at the stubborn nature of the animal and continued her one-sided conversation.

"We shall go back down this hill, into those woods, and find your master. And don't be sullen about it, I'll be sure to put in a good word for you."

It was slow going through the thickest parts of the trail as Elizabeth half led, half followed the animal's intentions with the hope he was leading her to his rider. After a quarter-hour, she began to question the wisdom of searching the woods on her own as they were now a good distance from the main trail. She wondered if she shouldn't turn back and lead the horse to her own home to let her father continue the search. Just as she mentally scolded herself and resolved to turn back, an odd sound came from the copse of trees to her left.

She clicked her tongue to entice the horse to follow her towards the noise, carefully stepping over a rather thick log. The horse began to fight against Elizabeth's attempts to steer him towards the sound, and she had to reassess the situation. She was reasonably confident the sound she heard was a human moan, but if the horse refused to cooperate, she knew she was far out of her league to demand compliance. Another moan inspired her to act.

"As you can't be counted on to accompany me, you will stay here." Elizabeth wrapped the reins around a low-lying branch, leaving enough slack for the horse to reach his head to the ground. Within moments, he began sniffing the forest floor. Looking around her, Elizabeth searched for a tool she hoped she wouldn't need, but found a suitable candidate not far from the large tree where she tied the horse. Gingerly, she rolled the thick stick over with her foot, then picked it up once she saw the underside lacked any infestation.

Glancing one last time at the horse over her shoulder, Elizabeth took a deep breath and braved the thicket of shrubs and thorns between her and what she prayed was the missing rider. Pushing through about four feet, and hearing the moans more clearly now, she nearly tumbled down a small embankment to a stream bed when the brush ended rather abruptly. Catching her balance with her walking stick, she spied below her a man dressed in the finest clothing but most unnaturally twisted. To the casual observer, he might appear dead if not for the occasionally labored movement of his limbs and anguished face. Blinking her eyes, Elizabeth heard the sounds of his discomfort through a distinctive chorus of hisses. Tiny snakes slithered on the ground around him and one, large snake lay very near to his right arm.

"Heavens!" Elizabeth didn't think twice before she took a step and slid down the embankment with the forest tromping skills of her wayward youth. Mud caked to her skirts and ruined her walking shoes.

"Move, move! Shoo!" Elizabeth deftly used the stick to push some of the smaller snakes out of the way, animals far too young to cause her harm. The larger snake, upon sensing a new threat, coiled beside the man preparing to strike.

Staring at the snake, she immediately recognized as a viper, adrenaline ran through her body and made standing still very difficult. Her arms and legs twitched from her own fear, and she swallowed in preparation for an attack. Although not usually fatal, she knew too many bites from the snake could kill the man lying helpless in the dirt before her.

The snake hissed with each breath swelling its body and then deflating back to normal size. Elizabeth began making more noise and flicking dirt at the snake.

"Go on! Go on! Get out of here!" She reached down and picked up a small rock, chucking it at the viper. It bounced off the man's arm, making him move his limb once more, and the snake bit his hand in response. This time he cried out, and Elizabeth flinched. Seeing the snake bite made her do something she hadn't for over a decade. In a flash, she shouted and reached her arm forward, grasped the snake near its tail and pulled as hard as she could, flinging it in an arc away from both her and the man.

She watched as the creature soared through the air and landed with a thud over on the other bank. The snake was still for a moment, then began slithering away from the water. She released a breath of relief and thought it unlikely the snake would swim across the shallow stream right away back to its nest.

Her heart racing, Elizabeth kneeled down by the man unsure of what to do. She didn't recognize him, though his fine linen shirt and breeches, not to mention the magnificent horse still tied to a tree above her, made her conclude he was a wealthy gentleman.

"Sir! SIR! You must wake up now, sir!" Elizabeth yelled at the poor man, eliciting only a brief eye flutter or two from her patient. Exasperated, she let out another cry of frustration and began pacing the soft ground around her. She couldn't leave him here, practically lying atop a viper nest. Surely the babies and mother snake would be back soon. But how was she to move a full-grown, unconscious man?

Looking back at her trusty stick, she tested her weight against it in an attempt to break it. The rod bowed slightly but didn't break. Frustrated with her futile plan, she stomped her foot on the soft bank, aggravated as she reasoned even if she could collect enough sticks to make a litter, it would be dark before she'd finish constructing one and there was no way she could carry the man, nor drag him, up the bank and out of the forest. Laughter bubbled up inside as her conundrum grew more and more frustrating.

After a few minutes of fruitless thoughts, Elizabeth decided to try again to rouse the man, only to meet the same results. His right hand was swelling most alarmingly, and she immediately felt guilty. Without being able to rouse him, nor see the full extent of his injuries, she'd hate to cause worse harm to him as she did when fighting off the snake. It appeared that his coat protected him from most of the snake's attempts to bite, but the one on his hand made her realize she was running out of time to prevent permanent injury.

Finally, an idea dawned on her as she was viewing his toned legs for signs of broken bones. The horse! But oh! She hated to ride and never truly mastered the skill like her older sister Jane. Looking at the poor man below her, she steeled her inner emotions of fear to choose courageous behavior. If she was willing to fight off snakes for him, how on earth would she tell her father she was too afraid to mount a horse to raise the alarm for help?

Resolved to her action, Elizabeth knelt beside the man to speak to him in a clear voice. "Sir? I'm Miss Elizabeth Bennet. You've fallen, and I'm going to go get help. Sir?" She tried one last time to wake him, but still to no avail. She even reached down and touched his cheek, something she had never done to any man let alone a complete stranger and was cheered to feel that it was still warm.

Elizabeth took one last look around to make sure the immediate threats were truly gone and prayed they would remain so until she could return. After scrambling up the bank, she found the horse exactly where she had left him, except he looked twice as big as she remembered now that she was to ride him.

Taking a deep breath, she untied the horse and looked him in the eyes. "Listen, I saved your master, but he's still in danger. We're going to rescue him together? Agreed?" she asked sternly, though who she was convincing more, herself or the horse, she couldn't say.

The horse, of course, said nothing and stared back at her with dark, glassy eyes. Elizabeth forced a smile as she ignored her body beginning to tremble, suddenly feeling a chill run over her skin. Walking to the horse's side and seeing the saddle was so high up, she wasn't sure even if she placed her foot in the stirrup, she'd be able to pull herself up. The horse began to move impatiently as she worked out how to mount.

"Whoa! Whoa!" Elizabeth gently patted his neck. "I don't like this either, but there is no other way. Now be still."

Shrugging, Elizabeth led the horse over to the log and used it as a natural mounting box. She placed her left foot awkwardly in the stirrup and pulled on the horse's mane while pushing with all of her might with her right leg. Mounting a horse this size allowed no room for fear lest the horse begin to gallop away with her left foot tangled in the stirrup. In a moment she found herself much higher than expected and nearly tumbled directly over the horse as her right leg swung around.

Achieving her seat, which felt precarious as she was settled astride in a dress, she squeezed with her thighs to hold on, which immediately prompted the horse to begin walking. As they moved back towards the forest's main trail, Elizabeth grabbed small branches and pulled in hopes of marking the trees where the man rested in danger.

Reaching the trail prompted the horse to take a mind of his own, and Elizabeth held on for dear life as he took a gallop back to civilization.

"Mr. Horse, that is quite enough! Whoa!" She pulled back on the reins as firmly as she could without trying to annoy the animal into bucking her off. Leaning forward, she patted his neck as he slowed down, wishing she simply could have walked back. This animal had a spirit she could appreciate, but not a speed she could stomach.

As they reached the crest of Oakham Mount, Elizabeth was energized to see a group of men below on horses near the crossroads. She hoped one was her father, but before she could squint to get a better look, the horse took off like a shot down the hill and Elizabeth yelled out. All four men below turned as one to see a magnificent midnight beast of sixteen hands galloping down the hill with the rider screaming like a banshee the entire way down.

"Lizzie!" Mr. Bennet spurred his own horse, a work nag named Nell, towards his daughter with as much speed as the old girl could muster.

"No! Look out!" Elizabeth's horse barreled through the grouping jumped over the fence line and cantered into the field beyond. Shaking, Elizabeth pressed as tightly as she could against the horse's neck, sobbing in fright. After the horse came to a stop, she collected herself and sat upright just as her father and his companions approached. Sniffling the last remnants of her fright away, Elizabeth jerked the reins to turn the animal around.

"That was uncalled for, sir, though I understand your desire for haste." Breathing quickly, Elizabeth's fright returned as her height from the ground came back to the forefront of her mind with the horse stopped. She turned to address her father. "A man has fallen in Winslow's Woods. He's been attacked by a viper."

Mr. Bennet was dumbstruck at the sight of his favorite daughter, the one who hated horses, riding a thoroughbred the size of a racer before him. "My god, daughter, you look a fright! We must get you home, then we'll search for this beast's owner."

The horse Elizabeth rode on grew agitated underneath her seat, stomping around as she struggled to maintain control. Whether the horse just hated to sit still or could actually understand English, Elizabeth assumed it was the former, not the latter. "No, father, he's too badly injured. I chased away the snakes, but he's still unconscious, and he lies on a nest."

Throat clearing could be heard by the other older gentleman of the group and a younger version of the gentleman who rode next to him. Elizabeth glared at Sir Lucas and his son, John. It wasn't that many years ago the younger Lucas' terror of the Bennet sisters with a snake or two prompted Elizabeth to learn her famed snake fighting skill. As all situations of great fear made her rise to the occasion, the adrenaline she felt coursing through her body before was making a steady return. "Please, will you fetch the cart from Longbourn and meet us at the edge of the trail?"

Elizabeth looked to her father and Mr. Watson, the steward of Longbourn, for support. A twinkle in her father's eye but a star in Mr. Watson's, Elizabeth had sufficiently convinced them.

"Do what she asks. A man's life may very well lie in the balance. But for heaven's sake, Elizabeth, take Nell here and let me ride that great horseback into the woods," her father commanded.

Elizabeth looked down at the ground in contemplation and then back up again, feeling dizzy. "I'm afraid I can't do that father. At present, I feel quite comfortable where I am." And without even signaling, her horse once again flexed its own mind and began a brisk trot towards the woods. This time Elizabeth steered him through the gate area of the field instead of taking a jump. Looking over her shoulder to see her father and Watson following and the Lucases heading in the opposite direction, she directed her focus forward. Taking a deep breath, she addressed her horse once more with the sternest voice she could muster.

"Since I am now certain you understand me, if you will not gallop down this hill again, I swear there will be a bushel of apples for you in the stables."

Confident she and the horse had an accord, Elizabeth nevertheless steeled herself for another frightful ride once more back into the breach.

It was nearly an hour later that Elizabeth found herself riding in the cart with the injured man back towards home. Although it was slow going, each bump and rut in the road made the man moan. Without thinking, Elizabeth grabbed his left hand under the blanket. She felt him squeeze her hand a few times, and she smiled. If it was even a small comfort she could give him, it was a liberty she would freely give.

No sooner had the party reached the front gate than Mrs. Bennet came rushing out of the house in full fury!

"Elizabeth! Elizabeth Rose Bennet, how could you ruin tonight for your sisters after all of our preparations? I just knew one day you'd fall down that hill and break your ankle or worse! Have you no consideration for your mother?"

Elizabeth popped her hand up from where she had been comforting the stranger she was charged to watch over, embarrassed to think the others noticed her behavior. She didn't bother to respond to her mother's cries knowing that like every other half-cocked lecture she had received from her mother, it was best to let her father handle his wife. Instead, she realigned her skirts and prepared to rise out of the wagon as soon as it came to a stop.

"Did you ready the guest room? Lizzie is fine. She saved some rich gentleman's life."

Fanny Bennet waved her handkerchief for dramatic effect. She sniffed at her husband and looked into the wagon. "Lizzie saved him?"

Mr. Bennet handed the reins of the black horse over to their stableboy and lent a hand to his daughter, who was attempting to remove herself from the cart without disturbing the man further.

"Where is Jones? Why isn't the apothecary here?" Mr. Bennet looked around as he climbed into the cart himself to lift the stranger by his shoulders, aggravated to see his wife didn't have the sense to summon the apothecary when she heard there was an injury.

Elizabeth stepped out of the way as John Lucas grasped the stranger's legs and carried him out of the cart with Mr. Bennet. The commotion in the front garden brought all four of the other Bennet sisters down though only the eldest, Jane and the middle daughter, Mary, were fully dressed to be seen by others. Crowding the stairs, the girls created an obstacle as Mr. Bennet was beginning to groan under such weight.

"Girls, move!" he shouted as Elizabeth rushed forward to grab one of the stranger's shoulders to help her father steady the man. Together, the three of them carried him up the stairs to the guest room overlooking the front of the home.

Mr. Bennet began removing the man's boots and clothing before Elizabeth had a chance to vacate, but she wasn't able to stay much longer as her mother incessantly called her out to the hall.

"Where on earth did you get off to, young lady? I gave you instructions to rest, but oh no, you go get yourself covered in mud and who knows what else the second I turn my back..."

"Mama, Lizzie saved a man. Oh, how romantic! Now you can fall in love and marry, and he'll owe you his life!" Lydia, the youngest Bennet sister, interrupted their mother with her shrill voice and laughter.

Mrs. Bennet paused and looked at Lydia, clearly not realizing the implications of Elizabeth's actions. Elizabeth grew alarmed at the sudden smile on her mother's face and struggled to get away.

She bowed her head quickly to her mother and muttered she would hurry to bathe for the assembly.

"You shall do no such thing! You will remain here tonight to nurse that man back to health. You'll never be ready in time, regardless." Mrs. Bennet dismissed her least favorite daughter with a satisfied humming sound and began shooing Lydia down the hall to her bedroom to help her with preparations.

Running to her room, Elizabeth closed the door forcefully and crumpled to the floor. She was finally safe to release all of the fear, guilt, and sadness she felt and try to recover from such an overwhelming afternoon. As her tears fell, slowly the stress and tension throughout her body poured out with them. She was surprised to start feeling stiff and sore throughout her joints. Taking a deep breath, she resolved to collect herself and see if her father needed help. And despite what her mother said, she was going to call for a bath because she smelled worse than the Lucas' pig sty!

Long after her sisters and mother had left, she took a fresh bath and ate a light supper. Thanks to the hot water boiled for the man upstairs, Hill was even able to give her a warm tub. Elizabeth finally braved her father's study to inquire how the man upstairs fared. She knocked gently on the door a few times.

"Lord Lizzie, just come in." Her father was at his desk, reading the post and drinking port. Demurely, Elizabeth slipped in and quietly seated herself in her usual seat in the window. The night was brilliantly illuminated by the silver glow of the moon above, and she began to wish she had attended the assembly as she dearly loved to dance.

"No long faces in here if you please."

"Papa, how is the man upstairs? Is he so terrible?"

Mr. Bennet downed his glass of port and stood up to pour himself another. The walls of his study were lined with bookshelves, but there was a gap where he had pulled all his medical journals down for today's catastrophe.

"Elizabeth, do you know the man you saved?" Mr. Bennet sighed as he returned to his chair and then proceeded to place his spectacles on to examine another letter of correspondence.

Confused, Elizabeth shook her head. "No, Papa. I've never met him."

"Hm, perhaps he has a sister named Elizabeth, then."

Elizabeth's heart quickened, and she took an audible breath and blushed. Was this man saying her name? It couldn't be, she had never met him before, and this was not one of her novels lying in a pile next to the bed.

"He said," she swallowed the nervousness pooling in her mouth, "he said my name?"

Mr. Bennet leaned back and folded his glasses again and placed them on his desk. He took a long look at his daughter before answering. "Why don't you tell me again the story of you finding the poor chap?"

Elizabeth pulled her knees up and tucked them under her dress, wrapping her arms around them. She recounted how she was just about to return home when the horse came running out of the woods, alone with no rider. She explained how once she started to think about it, she never should have started searching for the rider by herself, and just when she was about to abandon her attempt, she heard the moan. On and on Elizabeth continued, telling her father all of her fears and how she nearly gave up many times. When she reached the point of her story where she mounted the horse, her father stopped her.

"Aha! There you go. You said it! You told him your name before you left him to find me."

Elizabeth's mouth hung open in shock as she realized indeed she had told the man her name. She closed it again and burned with shame as she also remembered how she had touched his cheek, but managed to leave that part of her story for herself.

"It seemed natural at the time, Papa. In case he woke up." Elizabeth sat upright and let her legs dangle from the window seat again as her father began chuckling good-naturedly.

"Well daughter, thanks to your efforts, your patient upstairs happened to utter your name while your mother was in the room and by now, the whole town has heard. You may very well have just become the richest woman in the neighborhood!"

Elizabeth was aghast that her father would laugh at her and worse, that he would insinuate she would be forced to marry just because she happened to come upon a man after a horse riding accident! It was preposterous! With nothing more to tell, Elizabeth stood up and quit her father's study to return upstairs.

She paused in the hallway before making her decision on whether to just go to bed when a polite knocking on the door surprised her. The knock may have been polite in the tremor of the knock, but certainly not the hour. Deciding that if the person on the other side could disobey the rules of propriety by visiting in the middle of the night, she could very well answer the door.

After a customary bow, a smiling man of fair features greeted Elizabeth from the doorway.

"I am your newest neighbor in town, Charles Bingley, at your service. I believe a guest, and a very good friend of mine, is ill in your home. Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy?"

"How did you hear he was here?" She didn't intend on sounding so suspicious, but she didn't recognize the man, and she wasn't going to put the stranger in further danger. Mr. Bennet, hearing the front door shake the wall shared with his study, appeared behind Elizabeth.

"Mr. Bingley! I wondered if the man we found belonged to you!" Mr. Bennet shook Bingley's hand, having met him two days earlier while dealing with a tenant on the border of Netherfield and Longbourn.

Blushing, Bingley entered the home and gripped his hat in his hands.

"We searched all evening for him when he never returned from his afternoon ride. I attended the assembly to see if anyone had seen a sign of him or perhaps where he rode to. It's a bit like Darcy to take solitary rides in the countryside, but unfortunately, unlike his home county, no one knows him here. As soon as Mrs. Bennet talked about a horse riding accident and a stranger in her guest room, I boarded my carriage to come directly here. Please forgive the late hour."

Mr. Bennet nodded and offered Bingley something strong to drink, but he politely declined until after he could see to his friend. Dutifully, Elizabeth escorted him to Mr. Darcy's sickroom.

Mister Darcy. Mister Darcy. The name weighed on Elizabeth's mind as she had so far only considered the man upstairs as just "the gentleman," a man with no name, a mystery. The situation felt less like a novel now that he suddenly had an identity, but at least it ruled out complications if his injuries caused amnesia.

As Elizabeth skipped the second to last stair near the top, Mr. Bingley missed her example, and a loud creak broke the silence, causing Elizabeth to jump out of her own thoughts. Pausing in the hallway, she wasn't sure how to prepare Mr. Bingley for what his friend must look like. She shifted her weight from foot to foot as she held the candle in her right hand, and her left hand rested on the knob. Finally, she looked over her shoulder to address Mr. Bingley.

"He, I mean, Mr. Darcy might appear a little pale." Elizabeth grimaced as Bingley nodded that he understood.

The door creaked open to a thrashing, sweat covered man on the bed before them! Elizabeth dashed to place the candle on the nightstand before immediately feeling Darcy's forehead. With both hands, she cupped his face, only to let go with haste.

"He's burning up. Go alert my father!" Elizabeth peered at the anguished face of Mr. Darcy and bit her lip. "HILL!" she shouted out the door, causing the maid to nearly knock Mr. Bingley over on the stairs. Elizabeth leaned out of the bedroom and shouted a command for her to bring up the coldest bowl of water as soon as she was able.

Before returning to the guest room, Elizabeth dashed into her own bedroom and raised the floorboard beneath her bed. A crude box from her uncle's warehouse resided in her secret hiding place which she hastily opened. Inside were several bandages and home remedies Elizabeth had used countless times to tend her own injuries, mostly to keep her mother unaware of how dangerous her walks and rambles genuinely were. She grabbed some clean cloths and the most potent brew of willow bark draught in her possession and rushed back to the man. No, not man, Mr. Darcy.

The patient remained unchanged as Elizabeth prepared the small cup with a healthy dose of the draught. Ideally, Mr. Darcy would drink this in his tea, but she'd have to make do.

"Mr. Darcy, Mr. Darcy, sir, it's Elizabeth Bennet again. I'm here to help you, sir." She made her voice sound as calm and melodic as she could, and felt a small cheer in her breast as the man calmed in response.

"There you go." She reached out to stroke his arm, making sure it was his left one, and not the injured right, only instead of remaining calm, Mr. Darcy began to thrash again. "Now, none of that!"

Hill appeared with the basin of cold water. Elizabeth motioned for her to place it on the bedside table and to help her restrain him. Both women grasped the chest and arms of Mr. Darcy as Elizabeth held the cup tenaciously over his mouth to try to keep it from spilling. Despite placing the cup to his lips, the feverish, unconscious man refused to drink.

Looking to Hill and seeing the maid nod, Elizabeth blew a breath up to move her hair out of her face. "Ready?" Hill grasped the man with more gusto, and Elizabeth held Mr. Darcy's nose closed with her hand. At the man's first great breath, Elizabeth dumped the draught into his mouth, released his nose, and clamped her hand on his jaw to force it to stay closed. She waited and prayed she hadn't just drowned the man, but his Adam's apple clearly moved up and down, signaling he was swallowing.

"Thank you. See, it's not so bad to take one's medicine." Elizabeth sat on the edge of the bed, gathering her strength from the test of wills with a stubborn, unconscious man. She patted his uninjured arm as a comfort.

"Remove your hands from Mr. Darcy this instant!"

Elizabeth looked up at the doorway to see an unfamiliar woman stride into the room with more feathers on her head than a peacock.

"Pardon me, but you are?"

With a look of great scorn, the woman identified herself as Caroline Bingley, sister to Charles and dearest friend to the Darcy family. Elizabeth shrugged and reached for the cloths Hill had soaked in the cold water. She turned her back to the woman and carefully pressed them to Mr. Darcy's forehead and neck area that she could reach.

"I told you to stop! How dare you sit beside Mr. Darcy in his sickbed and touch his person!" Caroline shrieked and actually grabbed Elizabeth's arm. Hill took a step forward in defense of her mistress, only for Elizabeth to take care of the situation herself.

"Miss Bingley, touch MY person one more time, and they will be removing those feathers from your nose!" Elizabeth pulled her arm free, causing Miss Bingley to stumble backward a few steps.

"You harlot! I know your type, trying to claim Mr. Darcy for your own. Well, we'll just see about this!" Caroline hissed and stormed out of the room.

Elizabeth lifted the first round of cloths and handed them back to Hill before accepting another round. She carefully placed the cloths on his skin and watched as his restlessness seemed to slow. She could hear multiple raised voices from down below and did not need anyone to announce that Miss Bingley must have ridden home from the assembly with her own family.

Heavy footsteps Elizabeth recognized as her father's could be heard coming up the stairs, but Elizabeth continued to nurse Mr. Darcy. With her back to the door, she could sense when her father was standing there and kept up her charade of pretending ignorance.

He cleared his throat, yet still, Elizabeth refused to tear her eyes from the face of Mr. Darcy.

"Elizabeth. I believe it is time for you to retire for the evening." Her father used a tone she rarely heard, the one that made it clear he would brook no disagreement.

"But Father, he is so feverish! Please." Elizabeth waited a moment before looking at her father with all of her fears for this man in her eyes. Her father's features softened, and at first, she thought she had triumphed. Instead, he pointed at Hill.

"Others can apply cold compresses. Come, you need your rest, and Mr. Darcy will remain here tonight. If you are up to it, perhaps tomorrow his fever will have broken, and you can read to him." Mr. Bennet held out his hand to his daughter as she took it and rose from the bed. He embraced her hand with both of his own in affection and leaned forward to kiss the back of her head as she quit the room to retire.

Once she was alone in the bedroom she shared with Jane, who was not sent to bed like a misbehaving youth, she slipped into her nightgown with one thought on her mind. Curse that Caroline Bingley!

_A/N: It took a lot of self-control not to heavily edit a story I wrote 5 years ago, though I did update a few sentences for clarity. This story all began with a single scene of Elizabeth Bennet interrupted on Oakham Mount by a riderless stallion. I hope you enjoy this PIP, and while I will work to post more backlist here, I do have other books up on my website that anyone can read. I just started using to help sponsor new chapters as I write them, but even they will eventually post publicly after the book releases. It's been a long journey these last 5 years and now my publishing career fully supports me and my children. Thank you so much for reading! -EAW_


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: While I might have cringed yesterday, this morning I am in stitches. This was a very funny chapter to reread and lightened my spirits as I have a slew of work ahead of me. I sent out Chapter 2 to my patrons on The Miracles of Marriage, I need to also cross post that to my site. And then I have 4,000 of raw dictated words on that story to edit up and send to my editor. Finally, I have a date with my daughter's god parents to take the kids to a set of caverns here in San Antonio to explore. I cannot believe how many of you love this story or are discovering it for the first time... it's helping me as well to remember that 5 years ago I was brave and I can be brave again and again in my new life. XOXO- EAW_

The next morning Elizabeth took extra care with her toilette and abandoned her usual morning walk. Without waiting for permission, she snuck into the guest room across the hall as the dawn was still piercing through the curtains.

Mr. Darcy slumbered heavily, but Elizabeth noticed his skin was cool to her touch. Sitting in the chair next to his bed, she leaned her elbows on the mattress and fervently prayed for his continued recovery and thanked God for delivering him through the night. After saying her amen, she looked around the room for something to do and noticed his clothing was discarded in the far corner.

She gathered up the laundry and slipped back out the door and delivered the clothing to the massive laundry pile in the home's back room. Cook had winked at Lizzie as she went out the familiar door, then dropped her mouth in shock as the second eldest Bennet daughter came right back into the house.

"Morning, Mrs. Hobbs." Elizabeth gave the older woman a keen smile and skipped her habitual swipe of a biscuit from the fresh batch in the morning's pastry basket. Retreating from the kitchen, she opened the door to her father's study and experienced a surprise herself as her father sat very calmly behind his desk.

"And how is Mr. Darcy this morning?"

Elizabeth sputtered a few words and then looked behind her.

"No point in lying, Elizabeth. Your dainty little feet are not above stressing the floorboards." Mr. Bennet raised his eyes above him to emphasize his statement.

"That is to say, I collected Mr. Darcy's laundry so that it may be cleaned should he happen to awaken today."

"Mmmm, is that so? You didn't also check on his condition?"

Elizabeth blushed and stepped further into her father's study. "I only checked his temperature, Father, and his skin is quite cool. His fever must have broken sometime last night." Elizabeth looked at the shelves around her for a suitable candidate for her next project. While Mr. Darcy slept, she intended to read to him in hopes it would help rouse him more quickly.

"Lizzie, you're playing a hazardous game. We know nothing about this man besides his fine clothes and failure to keep his seat."

Dragging her toe across the floor, Elizabeth made absent-minded circles with her right foot. "I know, Papa, but I feel—" Elizabeth drew a blank for a moment. What did she feel for him, and could she confess that to her father? It wasn't love; she wasn't violently passionate about the man, but still, something strong brewed in her heart, and she struggled for words. Her father waited for her to finish her sentence with a slack expression. Finally, she found the words that fit as well as any.

"I feel responsible for him."

Mr. Bennet sighed and leaned back. He had done his best to quiet that harpy, Miss Bingley, but he sensed it might already be too late to save his favorite daughter from the gossip and rumors that would inevitably spread. Reminding himself to not borrow trouble, Mr. Bennet stood up from his chair and selected a book from the shelves. With a grimace and small prayer all would turn out, he handed the tome to Elizabeth, who frowned when she read the title.

"Sir, this will give him nightmares of war!" Elizabeth tried to return The Vision of Don Roderick to her father. But, Mr. Bennet held his hand up.

"Better nightmares of war than visions of romance," he said, expecting to see his daughter's usual lively spirit laugh at his tease.

Shrugging her shoulders, Elizabeth weighed the likelihood that the longer she tried to argue with her father, the more likely he might bar her from reading to Mr. Darcy altogether. Exasperated, she left the study without the courtesy of closing his door, which allowed her father to call after her.

"Keep the guest room door open!"

Shocked her father would suggest such a thing, Elizabeth giggled as she climbed back up the stairs knowing she had indeed rationalized a reason to close the door—to avoid disturbing the rest of her family as they were still asleep, of course!

Resuming her seat, Elizabeth sat upright and began in a clear voice:

Lives there a strain, whose sounds of mounting fire

May rise distinguished o'er the din of war;

Or died it with yon Master of the Lyre

Who sung beleaguered Ilion's evil star?

Such, WELLINGTON, might reach thee from afar,

Out of her peripheral view, Elizabeth spied Mr. Darcy's injured arm moving. She placed her book down and walked over to the fresh basin of water on the bedside table. Dampening a cloth, she carried it over to drape it gently on his swollen hand, happy to see diminished redness since last evening. Instinctively, she reached out to touch his bare forearm marveling at the dark hair that lay all in one direction. A spark of thrilling emotion traveled up her own arm at the connection, causing her to shiver. How could merely touching a man produce such a feeling?

Elizabeth shook her head and returned the compress to the basin. Wiping her hand dry on her skirt, she resumed her reading.

Wafting its descant wide o'er Ocean's range;

Nor shouts, nor clashing arms, its mood could mar,

All, as it swelled 'twixt each loud trumpet-change,

That clangs to Britain victory, to Portugal revenge!

Her voice naturally swelled with indignation and, without intention, she realized she was very nearly shouting. Immediately she quieted and turned her head towards the door, listening for sounds that she had awoken her sisters, but none came. Returning her gaze to the man before her, Elizabeth remembered her father's words and what he did not come out and say. She knew the way the world worked, and very quickly she might be forced to marry the man before her.

With new eyes, she looked at Mr. Darcy's dark brown hair and admired the small curls around the edge of his hairline. His jaw was of a steady sort, and he looked quite dashing with a day's worth of stubble beginning to grow in. His chest rose and fell with each breath. Elizabeth found herself matching his meter. As her eyes traveled further down, she couldn't see his form beneath the sheet but blushed as she remembered how he had looked in his breeches shortly after his fall. Yes, if she were forced to marry this man, he certainly wouldn't be a chore to admire!

As Elizabeth squirmed in her seat and resolved to return to her reading, she took one last look at his face. With a quick flutter, two deep chasms of chestnut were staring back at her. For a moment Elizabeth's own blue eyes locked with his and they each took a synchronized breath.

"You are awake, Mr. Darcy!" Elizabeth dropped her book and absent-mindedly reached out to squeeze his uninjured hand. Instead, he recoiled and snatched fistfuls of the sheets around him to pull them closer.

"Desist madam, or I shall not be responsible for my actions to defend myself. Who the blazes are you to be in my room?" Darcy looked around in confusion, not recognizing any of the furnishings or the strange woman before him.

"I'm Elizabeth Bennet. You said my name, sir, in your sleep. You fell off your horse, and you are recovering in my father's house in Hertfordshire."

Darcy took a second stock of the room and seeing it was very simple indeed, plus the common state of dress Miss Bennet wore, found himself unimpressed. His head ached most severely, and he needed to get out of here lest he became more vulnerable to compromise.

"For heaven's sake, woman, fetch your father. And where are my clothes?" His eyes widened as he worried that perhaps she had taken them off herself judging by her blush. "Are you responsible for my state?" Darcy frantically looked towards the door for another person to aid him, finding none.

Mortified and hurt that she had allowed herself to fall for the fantasy of a fairy tale, for the real Mr. Darcy was nothing short of a brute, Elizabeth stood up and left him without a word. Instead of going down to face her father, she headed towards her own room and noticed Hill in the hallway.

"Mr. Darcy is awake if you would tell my father." Despondent, Elizabeth turned the handle to her own room and crawled into bed with Jane. Half asleep, Jane asked in a groggy voice how Elizabeth's walk went.

As tears slid down her cheeks, Elizabeth sniffed and tried to regulate her voice. "It was perfectly fine."

By mid-morning, Elizabeth sat in the parlor doing her best to ignore her mind's memory of Mr. Darcy's harsh awakening. With the Bingleys arrival shortly after breakfast due to the health issues of their friend, she didn't have the luxury of running to the outdoors nor closing herself up in her bedroom. She continued to read the same page of her novel over and over again, but the romantic nature of the story failed to capture her attention.

The silence in the parlor was broken by a great roar above, coming from Mr. Darcy's room.

"Oh, heavens! They're killing him up there, I'm sure. What could a local apothecary possibly do to aid in this great tragedy?" Caroline Bingley fluttered her handkerchief and dabbed her eyes even though to Elizabeth's view, they were bone dry.

Another yell in Mr. Darcy's deep voice rang out, and Elizabeth's traitorous heart ached. She wanted to run upstairs and comfort the poor man, but she chided herself for feeling such an unwanted and unreturned sentiment. Instead, she slammed her book shut and placed it on the table.

"His arm must be lanced, or the swelling will injure him permanently. It's a painful procedure, and I understand he refused laudanum," Elizabeth sniffed in Caroline's direction after exhibiting her superior knowledge of the subject.

"How very quaint, Miss Eliza, that you are training to be an apothecary's assistant. I'm sure such a profession will suit you well." Caroline threw an insult back with a devilish smile.

Next to her on the couch, Elizabeth's sister Jane made a small noise as her mouth fell open in shock. Elizabeth placed a hand on Jane's clenched fist and gave a brilliant smile in return. Then she erupted into laughter.

"He doesn't give you the time of day, does he? All your fawning and complaints about my conduct towards Mr. Darcy are because you are in love with him. Or his bank ledger, more likely." Cooly, Elizabeth helped herself to some refreshments lingering on the parlor table from the Bingleys' arrival.

Caroline's face reddened in fury and her mouth twisted into a most unflattering scowl. Just before she could retort, two sets of men's footsteps could be heard taking the stairs.

"Thank you so much for your continued care of my friend. He can be, well, a bit difficult in his convalescing." Bingley spoke over his shoulder to Mr. Bennet as the two men traversed the flight of steps and paused at the foot of them.

Mr. Bennet clapped the younger man's shoulder in friendship before removing his handkerchief from his pocket and wiping the sweat from his brow. It had taken a great deal of strength out of the old man to help keep Mr. Darcy's arm still so Mr. Jones, the apothecary, could do his work.

"What are neighbors for?"

Shortly thereafter, the two Hertfordshire gentlemen were joined by Mr. Jones, who had finally collected his things.

"He sleeps. And the arm should heal. The rest of his injuries are remarkably minor. I expect later today, or tomorrow, he may be moved to your residence, Mr. Bingley." Mr. Jones bowed to both men and followed Mr. Bennet to his study for payment.

Exuberant, Mr. Bingley turned to join the women in the parlor and completely missed the icy stares between the three women. He bowed his head slightly to the younger Bennet sister in the room, ignored his own sister, and found his way to the high-backed chair on Jane's side of the sofa.

Seconds ticked by on the mantle clock as the silence lengthened and Mr. Bingley finally began to fidget uncomfortably in his seat. Clearing his throat, he thought he should perhaps try to strike up a conversation, but none of the ordinarily polite subjects one spoke about in a parlor came to his recall. Absently, he looked up at the ceiling and realized what was likely distressing the women.

"Forgive us, ladies, for the sounds of Mr. Darcy's treatment, were quite frightful. I assure you Mr. Jones performed a top-notch job." Bingley beamed at the woman to his left, Jane Bennet.

Elizabeth's anger still prevented her from making a polite remark, so she simply nodded. For once she wished she had accompanied her mother and three younger sisters to Meryton on their shopping jaunt. Tapping her foot on the pale green carpet, the bitterness in her mouth gave way as she heard her usually quiet sister begin to speak.

"It is a marked measure of your family's kindness towards Mr. Darcy to see you and your sister here today, Mr. Bingley." Slyly, Jane looked up at Mr. Bingley through her eyelashes and batted them. Elizabeth sucked in her breath in surprise. Was her sister flirting with Mr. Bingley?

"The kindness is all your family, Miss Bennet. You've taken in a relative stranger and nursed him back to health." Mr. Bingley kept eye contact with Jane, ignoring his sister's glare.

Rising from the couch, Elizabeth looked directly at Miss Bingley before announcing she realized she had selected the wrong novel this morning and would retrieve the correct one. Bouncing with each step, Elizabeth was overjoyed she had managed to leave Jane with Mr. Bingley and do the one thing that Miss Bingley could not, go upstairs and check on Mr. Darcy. She had overheard the apothecary say he was sleeping, so it couldn't harm anyone for her to take a peek for herself, could it?

Tiptoeing across the hall, Elizabeth slowly opened the door to the guest room, spying that, with labored breath, Mr. Darcy was indeed asleep. She opened the door wider and entered the room to find a seat in the chair now moved against the wall.

"Is it your regular habit to enter the sick room of strange men, or am I simply bestowed the felicity of your notice, madam?"

Elizabeth was startled at the sudden taunt by Mr. Darcy and looked at his face as he kept his eyes closed and only moved his mouth.

"I am ashamed that my concern for a sick man is such a black mark on my character, sir."

Instinctively, Elizabeth licked her lips and found herself naturally sitting more to the edge of the seat in anticipation of Mr. Darcy's next words. The nervous anxiety she felt around this man intoxicated her, and she couldn't help herself from experiencing it one more time before he was taken away to Netherfield to further recover.

Darcy opened his eyes at the woman's retort and caught a sparkle in her eye as she threw his words right back. To be sure, she was a fair beauty, not one to turn so many heads in the society he kept, but there was something so odd about her continued dedication, despite his rudeness earlier in the morning, that intrigued him. He knew he should apologize for being too gruff, but to bring up his poor behavior would likely only again injure her sensibility if she had indeed been offended.

"Mmmm, you are giving my words more weight than their due, madam."

"And you are striking out at the very hands that saved you." Elizabeth grew piqued at the continued slight she felt, embarrassed that he once again questioned her propriety.

Darcy laughed. This woman was delightful, even if she was sorely mistaken. "It was you then that pulled me up six feet out of that creek bed and carried me to your home? No, perhaps you tied me to a makeshift litter and dragged me out of that forest?"

Elizabeth jumped from her chair, her cheeks burning. "Mr. Darcy, you are a rude, uncouth sort of man and I shall bother you no further."

Ignoring her family and visitors, Elizabeth trudged down the stairs and out the front door into the safety of Mother Nature. She couldn't believe she was attracted to such an ogre as Mr. Darcy. Stomping her way through the nearest field, Lizzie continued her one-sided chastisement in her head all the way to her best friend Charlotte Lucas' home. She wasn't sure how, but if she could fall so quickly for Mr. Darcy, then perhaps she would soon be able to forget him as well.


	3. Chapter 3

_AN: Thank you so much for the reviews... even though this story is 5 years old, it still is making me smile to read everyone's excitement and joy from the story. I will admit that I am also renewing my love for the story. I aim to publish 1-3 chapters a week and will follow with 2 other stories after this, even though they are already on my site. I am also actively writing Book 5 in the Moralities of Marriage series, so I am keeping busy! Happy Reading! - Elizabeth Ann West_

Days of sunshine and rain alternated in the week ahead, but Elizabeth's mood remained black. Looking out the window of her shared bedroom with Jane, she watched as the carriage took her eldest sister to her second invitation of tea at Netherfield Park with Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst. The invitation was never extended to herself, and Elizabeth hated to admit she longed to see Mr. Darcy just one more time to apologize for her haughty words.

The visit to Charlotte's had been fruitless as Elizabeth endured an hour of relentless teasing by the Lucas boys, all refusing to call her anything but Queen Elizabeth of the Amazon and pretending every piece of ribbon or trimming Charlotte was using to refresh a bonnet was a snake trying to kill them. She heartily wished there had been real snakes to bite them, and she wouldn't have lifted a finger to save any of them. Charlotte was kind enough to offer Elizabeth a ride home after the visit, but she had missed the departure of the Bingleys and Darcy.

That was six days ago, and this morning she was going to stop her sulking and walk into Meryton if only to see if the book store had any new offerings. Wiping from her face the last remnants of her sorrow, Elizabeth refreshed her dress and searched for one of her sisters to accompany her journey.

"Elizabeth, have a care not to clamor down the stairs, oh my poor nerves!" Mrs. Bennet lounged on the sofa, fanning herself while keeping a keen eye on the lane out front. Elizabeth sighed and smoothed her skirts before entering the parlor.

"Kitty?" Her younger sister looked up from the stitching in her lap. "Would you care to walk to Meryton with me?"

Kitty, the second-youngest Bennet daughter, properly named Catherine at birth, wrinkled up her nose. "You only like the book store." She returned her attention to her stitches.

"Well, yes, I do plan to stop in the book store, but I also hoped to retrim one of my old bonnets and thought you could help me select the ribbon? I'll give you the extra."

"Oooh, take me, Lizzie, take me! Miss Lettie has just received the loveliest shade of pink that would go perfectly with my complexion!" Lydia, pranced about the room in exuberance, completely forgetting that Elizabeth would be picking out the ribbon to go with her own complexion, not Lydia's who had the darkest features of the Bennet daughters.

"Lydia, Aunt Phillips is to arrive at any moment! No, I really must insist you girls stay home today." Mrs. Bennet had paid calls around the county just yesterday with the daring tales of Elizabeth's most valiant rescue of one of the richest men in London. She made sure to include how the poor man in his delirious state repeated her daughter's name over and over again.

Yes, she was confident that a proposal of marriage was just around the corner, though the small voice in her head reminded her that Mr. Darcy had not come to call since his accident. But this little annoyance was quieted by the jubilation Mrs. Bennet felt as she remembered that Jane was continually invited to Netherfield Park, so perhaps Mr. Darcy liked her prettiest daughter instead. Either way, the prospects for her girls were looking up, and she was sure to tell every one of her acquaintance of her expectations.

Without fail, a carriage rolled up, and Elizabeth recognized it as her aunt's. Exasperated it was too late to make her escape, she found a seat by the window to pay courtesy. A slender woman of nearly forty alighted from the carriage with her smile fixed in place as she steadied her hat. The pale lavender cover clashed with her wine red dress, but then again, Aunt Phillips wasn't known for her keen fashion sense. Elizabeth watched as the arrival progressed through the typical pleasantries, and she mostly closed her mind to the gossip the two former Gardiner sisters swapped freely with each meeting.

After a few minutes, Elizabeth was able to excuse herself to see about the tea tray. The departure wasn't long enough as, by the time she returned, the talk had turned to a most uncomfortable subject. Humiliated, Elizabeth's hands shook as she served her aunt and mother before finding her seat again.

"—and I said to Lady Lucas that it was impossible. No niece of mine would dare to enter the bed of an unmarried man."

"Of course not! Lizzie read to Mr. Darcy in his ill state and helped treat his most violent fever with cold cloths. She saved his life!" Mrs. Bennet sniffed in indignation at the gall of Lady Lucas to spread such lies about her daughter. Just like a mother of a shelved daughter to sow sour grapes about the girls still able to catch a man's eye!

Aunt Phillips stirred her cup slowly, keeping a keen eye on Elizabeth, who was redder than a beet in the face. "So Elizabeth was never alone in Mr. Darcy's room?"

Flustered, Mrs. Bennet took the bait. "Never with the door closed!"

Elizabeth cringed. It was all Caroline Bingley's fault! She was undoubtedly the reason these rumors were running wild, knowing Mr. Darcy would never offer for a Bennet daughter with her poor status and lack of a dowry. Even if she wasn't so poor, how could he when he was utterly indifferent to her?

"Kitty? Lydia? If we leave now, we might still make the ribbon shop before it closes. Aunt Phillips." Elizabeth gave a curtsy and found her way to the front door, stunned by her aunt's revelation. If Lady Lucas was talking about her, it indeed was spread all over the county. No one would tell Lady Lucas such gossip until last, knowing how close the two families were. Shame gurgled in her stomach as Elizabeth started down the path to Meryton while her two youngest sisters fell into step behind her and giggled most of the mile-long walk.

Elizabeth's frustration carried to her feet, making them swifter than usual. It was not long before she could hear Lydia's shrill voice call out.

"Lord, Lizzie, slow down! We don't walk as fast as you!"

Elizabeth shrugged off the warning and kept to her step. She didn't know why she felt such a sense of foreboding with each step, but if the whole town did think she was a fallen woman, she elected to learn it first hand with her chin held high.

"Get your mutton! Get your mutton!" A young boy rang a simple bell outside the pungent smelling butcher shop, and Elizabeth recognized him as young Arnold Masters, the precocious six-year-old son of the butcher. Passing the boy on the clapboard walkway, Elizabeth pressed a penny to the boy's hand with a smile as she continued her walk to the bookshop.

Grinning, Arnold raised his hand holding the bell and clanged it about most viciously as he waved to the nicest Bennet sister, at least by his account. "Get your mutton! Get your mutton!" he resumed yelling as Lydia and Kitty passed him without a second glance.

The two younger girls stopped outside of the book shop to gawk at the many militia men loitering about town. Waving her handkerchief, Lydia attracted the attention of a Mr. Denny and his companion who quickly crossed the street to talk. Elizabeth eyed her two sisters carefully, and upon hearing Lydia talk about dancing with Mr. Denny at the last assembly, she rolled her eyes and entered the book shop on her own.

Another bell over the door signaled her arrival, and Old Mr. Hopkins looked up from the book he was reading at the counter.

"There's nothing new, Miss Elizabeth, since last week. I won't get a new shipment of books until next month." Mr. Hopkins' much wrinkled brown eyes twinkled at his favorite young customer. He watched her as she curtsied to him and walked to a different section of the shop than her usual perusal, the latest fashion magazines from London.

Fitzwilliam Darcy passed the two flirtatious girls he recognized from the Bennet home with a look of disgust. The taller man in militia regimentals was a soul he wished to never spy again in his general direction and with all of his polite manners he possessed he bowed to the younger ladies.

"Miss Kitty, Miss Lydia."

"Ooooh, Mr. Darcy are you here to meet Lizzie? How romantic! A secret rendezvous!" Kitty Bennet pretended to swoon like a heroine in a novel, garnering a loud laugh from her younger sister.

Perplexed, Darcy raised an eyebrow at the ladies and cleared his throat. "I did not know you or your sisters planned to patron the book shop today. I find the library at Netherfield to be sparse, as many leased estates are, and hoped to find pleasurable reading material inside."

"How surprising the library at Netherfield Park cannot live up to the exacting standards of a Darcy." The tall man with Denny spoke, with a challenging glint in his eye. Mr. Darcy stared hard at the man, remained silent, and turned instead to the ladies to give a farewell bow before pulling the door of the shop open.

"Mr. Wickham! The most serious Mr. Darcy cannot be teased!" Lydia squealed, the last words Darcy heard before the door closed behind him.

Removing his hat, his eyes adjusted to the dimness and he sniffed in response to the flurry of dust particles floating in the ray of sunlight before him. He turned to the counter to address the shopkeeper.

"I wondered if you carried Psyche by Mary Tighe?"

Elizabeth Bennet flinched at the melodious baritone voice floating in the air behind her. It could be no other than Mr. Darcy, and she once again cursed Fate that even her attempts to forget the man threw her right into his path. Taking deep breaths, Elizabeth resolved to continue her shopping and ignore him entirely.

"I just so happen to have a copy, sir. My favorite customer is here, and she highly recommended the book after reading it herself, and so I purchased a spare."

Mr. Darcy raised his eyebrows at the book shop owner that his favorite customer would be female.

"Yes, I hoped to present the volume to my sister when I next saw her," Darcy finished as Mr. Hopkins vacated the counter and began to walk towards the back of the shop. That's when he saw her. Of course, it would be her, the vixen Bennet sister who challenged him during his recovery. Even now, his right hand ached as it recovered, and he had not managed to stop dreaming of those crystal clear blue eyes.

Examining a pattern for a rather low cut muslin dress with rosettes along the shoulder, Elizabeth could feel a steely gaze behind her. It was ages before she put the pattern back and turned around, nearly knocking into Mr. Darcy's chest. She stood there for a moment, her nose just an inch away from a few layers of cloth and his skin, inhaling an intoxicating scent of spice and sandalwood, before raising her gaze to lock with his.

Mr. Hopkins stepped out of the back room with the requested book just at that moment. "I hope your sister will enjoy..."

Both Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth turned in the same direction and bumped into one another with multiple apologies. Smiling, Mr. Hopkins covered his mouth with his hand, laughing at the two young people before him trying to hide their embarrassment. He walked over to the counter, and Mr. Darcy followed him to finish the transaction.

Pressing multiple coins into Mr. Hopkins hand, Darcy quietly whispered he would gladly purchase any magazine the young woman chose.

"You mean Miss Elizabeth?"

Mr. Darcy nodded and gave a pert nod to the book store owner before bowing to Miss Elizabeth and exiting the shop. Once outside, he purposely ignored the younger Bennet sisters and their company to cross the road and make one last errand.

Left in the store, Elizabeth hastily grabbed the issue with the muslin pattern and walked up to the counter. She pulled out her reticule to pay, when Mr. Hopkins handed the magazine back to her with a father's prideful gaze.

"It's been taken care of."

Confused, Elizabeth shook her head and tried again to hand Mr. Hopkins her coins, only to be refused once more. To add insult to injury, Mr. Hopkins walked away from the counter towards the back of his shop, humming an old Irish air.

With her magazine held close to her chest, Elizabeth left the shop with her cheeks burning. Why had Mr. Darcy bought her a gift? Was this his way of apologizing? Why hadn't he said anything to her? It was all most perplexing, and Elizabeth found herself more frustrated that she couldn't give the man up in her heart or her mind!

Practically dragging her sisters to the hat shop and away from the friendly officers, Elizabeth bought more ribbon than she initially expected, including a yard of the bright pink ribbon she planned to just give evenly to both of her younger sisters. With any luck, the distractions of trimmings and military officers would keep her sisters from talking about running into Mr. Darcy.

As the girls exited the hat shop with their wares in hand, a familiar set of eyes balefully caught Elizabeth's as Mr. Darcy's horse was still tied up outside of the book shop. With a rueful smile, Elizabeth patted the horse's muzzle and stroked the dark fur with her gloved hand.

"How are you, old boy? Still galloping down hills as wild as the wind?" She laughed as the horse snorted into her hand.

"Lizzie," Lydia whined and blew out a full breath to set her mouth in the most perfect pout only the baby of a family can perform.

Elizabeth leaned closer to the horse and pressed her forehead to his muzzle.

It was this vista of Elizabeth greeting his horse that Mr. Darcy spied upon leaving the inn that stopped him in his boots. His neck felt suddenly very hot, and he tugged at his offending cravat for relief. He shook his head and began his way back to his horse once he saw Miss Elizabeth turn to leave.

He wasn't sure what came over him at the book store, to buy a gift for a woman so wholly unrelated to him was a very serious matter but something about that woman was bewitching in the most unsettling manner! He urged his horse in the opposite way of the walking Bennet sisters and began a gallop as soon as he was on the outskirts of town. Taking the long road around the shire, he would make it back just in time to refresh himself for dinner.

The Bennet sisters were a few yards down the road when a most shrill whistle rent the air. Lydia and Kitty turned around and waved. Elizabeth dreaded turning around but did so to begin chiding the two younger girls for stopping and turning at such impolite behavior.

"A lady does not respond to a whistle from a man," she hissed.

"Oh shove off, Lizzie, you have your beau, and we have ours," Lydia cried triumphantly, as the two officers hastened to catch up to the ladies. Lydia happily took the arm of Mr. Denny, and Kitty expected to take the arm of Mr. Wickham and was severely put out when she was ignored by the taller man and instead noticed he immediately attempted a conversation with Elizabeth.

"I do not believe I've had the honor of an introduction." Mr. Wickham employed a bow with a flourish making Lydia laugh and Kitty pout by crossing her arms in front of her.

Elizabeth eyed the gentleman with a wary eye and shrugged. She immediately turned away and began to walk, after all, she was not introduced to the man, and she had endured her limit of strange behavior for the day.

"Lizzie, don't be so missish. This is Mr. Wickham, an intimate friend of Mr. Denny. Both are officers in the militia." Lydia looked up at Mr. Denny to flash him a most catty smile.

Instead of greeting the man, Elizabeth kept walking and dragged her hand across the browned autumn grass lining the road. Kitty jumped on the opportunity to attract Mr. Wickham's attention back to herself.

"You never told us how you are so well acquainted with Mr. Darcy, Mr. Wickham!" Kitty walked faster to catch up with Mr. Wickham, causing him to look down at the less interesting Bennet sister and practically forcing him to offer her his arm, which he reluctantly did.

"Ah, it's a sad tale, I tell you. Sad only because of the way the story ends." He shook his head with a grim expression, while simultaneously noticing Miss Elizabeth's attention was caught by her sudden rigid stature, though she continued to knock the stalks of grass.

"If you cannot speak of it, we understand," she finally said, firmly, still not looking at the coupled group behind her.

"On the contrary, Miss Elizabeth. My childhood at the Darcy estate, Pemberley, was all that was idyllic. Old Mr. Darcy was like a father to me, and he paid for me to attend Cambridge with Fitzwilliam."

The manor house of Longbourn could be seen in the far distance, and Elizabeth felt torn between hearing more about Mr. Darcy's family life and not hearing anything about the man at all. She heard Kitty ask Mr. Wickham questions but only vaguely marked the answers as she once more dwelled deeper in her own thoughts. It was only when he described Mr. Darcy cheating him out of a living to the collective gasps of her sisters that Elizabeth turned around.

Mr. Wickham was stunned by the fierce scrutiny in Miss Elizabeth's face, but he kept the much practiced doleful look upon his own countenance.

"You are sharing a most personal story for such a lack of intimates in company, Mr. Wickham." Elizabeth raised an artful eyebrow at the sandy-brown haired man and eyed him carefully up and down, noticing deep scars on his knuckles. "I cannot imagine being free to air my personal failures and failings so cavalierly."

Wickham glanced skyward in a feigned attempt at showing emotion and silently counted the seconds. He made it to two before his calculated move paid off.

"You are one to talk, lecturing poor Mr. Wickham. The whole neighborhood knows you keep throwing yourself at Mr. Darcy, and he never comes to call. Of course, Mr. Darcy stole his inheritance. He is not a nice man." Kitty panted after giving her longest tirade to date against another sister. The winds began to pick up and a chill made Kitty shudder as her older sister remained speechless in front of her.

"May I?" Mr. Wickham attentively offered Kitty his coat and the two couples continued to walk on, practically leaving Elizabeth alone on the side of the road. With no other choice but to follow behind them, even Elizabeth had to admit she too was chilled to the bone by the sudden change in weather. She quickened her pace to surpass the couples and beat them to the edge of her father's property at which point she hastened her step to a near jog.

"Lizzie! You've returned." Her father met his wayward daughter at the door to receive a peck on the cheek. He ignored her as she tarried not in the foyer and dashed up the stairs. With a wary eye, Mr. Bennet stepped out to greet the two gentlemen escorting his youngest daughters with a sardonic grin and his hands clasped behind his back. He was never one to forgo a little sport at the expense of a new acquaintance, and his daughters' beaus were his favorite prime prey.


	4. Chapter 4

_A/N Sorry to take so long between posts... there was the holiday weekend which the 4th of July is my eldest's birthday :) Also, we started a new school year on Monday for my youngest who is homeschooled AND I am hard at work on Moralities of Marriage Book 5 that's up for preorder for the end of this month. But here is a delightful chapter that made me chuckle and feel all the warmth I always feel in the angsty build ups between Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth :) - Elizabeth Ann West_

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Drafty pews were always the first sign of winter approaching, and the cold tip of Elizabeth Bennet's nose distracted her as she attempted to sing from her hymnal. Next to her sister Mary, the middle Bennet daughter, she kept a serene face as Mary stood straighter than a pole and sang as loud as she could in her off-key voice. If volume was any indication of salvation, Mary was undoubtedly heaven-bound.

Glancing away from her hymnal, Elizabeth caught the eye of Mr. Darcy staring at her from the left side of the church, where most visitors worshiped. She held his gaze and smiled, relishing the pleasant look on his face.

With the Netherfield party being the most prominent visitors to the area, they naturally took the front pew in that section, just as the Bennets, as one of the oldest families in Hertfordshire likewise sat every Sunday in the central area's front pew. Giving him a slight twist to her smile as a farewell sign, she pulled her focus back to the words of Christ descending with clouds and attempted to find meaning in the hymn. She stumbled over the call for the Lord to answer his own bride and found herself veritably choking to continue the verse. Quickly she covered her mouth as she coughed and tried to get back in time with the music, receiving a stern eye from her sister.

Another quick look to Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth caught him smiling at her, making her cheeks burn. He must have seen her cough, and Elizabeth wished the church floor would open up and swallow her whole, or perhaps the Lord would have mercy and ascend her to heaven at that very moment. Taking her seat at the end of the song, she handed the hymnal to Mary and rubbed her hands together before placing them over her mouth and nose. What little relief she felt soon froze back over as she could hear whispers behind her.

"And I heard he bought her an expensive rare edition from Mr. Hopkins's shop."

"No!"

"Yes, it's all so secretive and a disgrace. He never comes to call on the family at large."

Elizabeth stared at the worn stone floor as her sister Mary leaned close to her and turned her head so the ladies behind them could also hear.

"But the tongue can no man tame; it is an unruly evil, full of deadly poison."

The whispering stopped, but the shame of being such a subject of gossip sloshed and spun in Elizabeth's stomach, making her most uncomfortable. She didn't dare look up again during the entire service and could barely comprehend the sermon's message of obedience to God's laws.

At the service's completion, she was further mortified by her mother's protracted departure as she specifically called out to the Netherfield party. Mr. Bingley happily attended to Jane to help her into the carriage while Miss Bingley sniffed as she walked past the Bennet family to await assistance into her own carriage.

Caroline looked back as Mr. Darcy paused beside Miss Elizabeth, her lips pursed with disdain as she accepted her brother-in-law Hurst's assistance.

"Miss Elizabeth," Mr. Darcy started and stopped. The two ladies sitting behind the Bennet family in church approached with barely whispered words of "disgraceful" and "hopeless flirt." He stared at the two women in question with his "Master of Pemberley" expression, causing both to halt in their musings and find a different direction for their steps.

"Miss Elizabeth, I must beg to request-" he began again, clasping his hands behind his back.

Elizabeth tried to look up at him, but she simply could not. Before she could hear what Mr. Darcy was to say, Mr. Bennet rapidly approached and quickly escorted her away.

"Come, Lizzie, your mother is in near hysterics over Mr. Bingley holding a ball, and I fear if we tarry any longer, she will help him write the guest list here and now." Mr. Bennet steered his daughter away from the great man and into the nearly full carriage. The gentleman from Derbyshire was left frowning.

Bingley joined his friend momentarily before both men mounted their horses as the Netherfield party was long gone and did not wait for the two of them to escort the carriage home.

"I say, Darcy, Hertfordshire is the best county in the kingdom. Yes, surely one of the finest."

Fitzwilliam Darcy stood watching the Bennet carriage roll away with a wistful feeling. He couldn't explain his desire to talk to Miss Elizabeth when he knew so little about her and nothing of her station lent meaningful consequence. His duty to his family never wavered on the expectation that he would marry a great heiress. But in his years of circling the ton, he had never found a woman with the spark of Miss Elizabeth. Thoughts of his young sister coming out and an unequal marriage making the Season difficult for her cemented his decision.

With a heavy sigh, Darcy mounted his own horse and steadied his hat.

"You find happiness in every situation, Charles. Yaw!" Darcy shouted his command, and his favorite mount spurred into action, flinging clods of dirt behind him as his hooves galloped towards Netherfield.

Dressed in layers upon layers, Elizabeth and Jane walked carefully through Winslow's Woods searching for greenery to decorate the house. Boughs of holly and branches of evergreen were sparser in their corner of England, but it never stopped the Bennets from properly observing the coming birth of the Savior.

"Do you think this one is too large? Imagine, if we put this great tree in the parlor, we might never have another conversation with Mama all season." Elizabeth squinted at a small pine tree that was still two feet over her head.

"Lizzie, don't be ridiculous." Jane laughed, adding more branches to her basket for the mantles.

Quietly, Elizabeth returned to her thoughts, which didn't settle her one bit. All she could think about was Mr. Darcy approaching her after church and what he was trying to say to her. Tensing her shoulders and releasing them, Elizabeth decided to implore her mind to seek a safer subject.

"Mr. Bingley truly asked you to dance the first dance, Jane? That will certainly be a feather in Mama's cap." Elizabeth kicked at some layers of leaves on the forest floor, delighting in the small storm at her feet. Years ago, she'd have run and kicked the leaves up into a flurry all around her, and come home with leaves, twigs, and possibly even an acorn or two tangled in her hair.

"He is such a nice man. We are truly friends."

"Friends! Friends! With as many teas as you take, I should hope you are much further along than just friends."

"Stop it, Lizzie! You know the man must dictate the course of a relationship. Besides, Mr. Bingley isn't always present when I visit."

Elizabeth snorted. "And a woman can certainly help him along."

Jane put down her basket and looked at her younger sister with a scolding look. "Forgive me, but are you suggesting I behave in such a way as to have the entire county talk about me?"

Elizabeth's lip quibbled. She wasn't prone to crying, far from it. But after a morning of gossip at church, and even a scolding by Mary after church, she couldn't endure Jane's rebuke as well. She turned away from Jane and tried to collect herself.

"Oh, Lizzie, I'm so sorry. That was cruel of me." Jane tried to comfort her sister, but Elizabeth took another step forward.

"I do not try to act wrongly. I know the rules, and I just thought, well at first I thought that it was important to make sure he was well. And now, now I-"

"Ssssh, it's not your fault."

"No!" Elizabeth turned around. "I hate him. I hate him, Jane. He's mean. And rude, and I am so angry at myself because the more I try to not be attracted to him, the worse my affections for him become!" Elizabeth decided they had collected enough greenery for one afternoon and stomped past Jane to snatch up her basket.

Jane Bennet stood there shocked for a moment that Lizzie, her sister who never liked to talk about marriage or feelings, had just admitted she admired Mr. Darcy! Gathering a few branches they had left on the ground in her arms, Jane hurried after Elizabeth, quiet in thought with prayers that she could somehow bring her sister happiness.

Dinner at Netherfield was a tense affair. Caroline and Louisa were in deep discussion about which of their gowns were best suited for the ball, and Darcy was deep in contemplation while stirring his soup. His right hand was nearly healed, and the soreness from his fall had abated some days ago. He was finding his thoughts preoccupied when a direct address from his friend's sister interrupted his quiet.

"I'm afraid the company will be onerous at best. Don't you agree, Mr. Darcy?" Caroline raised an eyebrow at him in a conspiratorial manner as he managed to sit across the table from her this evening.

Before he could answer, Bingley, at the front of the table, had a rejoinder.

"Don't be such a snob, Caroline. I find the families in the area perfectly amiable. The ball shall be a great success!"

Ah, they were talking about the ball. He hated to admit that like Caroline, he agreed the attendees would not be his first choice of company for an evening of dancing, but then neither would most of the ton. Suddenly, a vision of a playful set of blue eyes flashed before him, and he smiled.

"See, Darcy agrees with me."

Darcy shook his head and finished a spoonful of soup. "Forgive me, Bingley, but you know how much I dislike large events. I purposely avoid these evenings in London, and now I must attend."

"Buck up, old man. Life is for living!"

Darcy rolled his eyes and leaned back slightly as the next course was placed before him.

"Surely there are some ladies you will enjoy dancing with." Caroline preened and batted her eyes at him from across the table. Darcy blinked as he considered there was, indeed, no safe place to sit for dinner. Next to Caroline, and she was forever placing her hand on his arm with every statement. Across from her, and he had to look at her. He should have feigned his illness longer and taken a tray in his room.

"There is one pair of fine eyes I wouldn't mind accompanying for a half hour," Darcy said. He even smiled as he watched Caroline blush and look down in practiced coquetry as he knew she had no idea as to the actual direction in which his interest lay. Yes, the evening may just be pleasant enough if he could dance a set or two with Miss Elizabeth Bennet, though anymore would give rise to expectations he could never fulfill. For Georgiana's sake.


	5. Chapter 5

_A/N: Not sure about the review that the last chapter is all in italics? I looked and don't see that. It's neat to be going back and rereading my old writing... something 700,000+ words ago as this year, I'm aiming to hit over 1,000,000 publish JAFF words and A May for Mary put me over 750k. What kind of goals do you all keep for yourself? I will confess I am a huge planner nerd and goal maker... I should make one of my Elizabeth Bennet's like that, since even Benjamin Franklin bullet journaled to a degree... hmmm I think that's a plot bunny in the making! Anyway, enjoy Chapter 5 :)  
-Elizabeth Ann West_

"No, try this one. The wine ribbon will make the cream really stand out."

"But it's a white ball! Caroline Bingley will be impossible to endure under the circumstances already, I'm not giving her more reasons to lift that pointy nose of hers." Elizabeth shook the cream colored gown in frustration and rejected it to lay on her bed. She again picked up her white gown from three seasons ago, and frowned that it was just two inches too short.

Jane pursed her lips and twisted them to the side. With three days to go until the ball, she was at a loss to solve the problem. Why hadn't her mother bought both of them new white gowns last year instead of just her? Remembering her vow to help her sister, Jane made a brave decision.

"Wear mine."

Elizabeth turned around and gasped. "I can't, Jane. Not yours. You must be luminant."

Jane laughed. "Nonsense and poppycock." She wagged her head at her younger sister, and held up her own gown over Elizabeth's frame in front of the glass. "I'll be luminant in pale blue. Besides, Charles mentioned how much he liked that gown when I wore it to tea a few weeks ago so Mama will let it go. I'll embellish it with your pearls."

The mention of sharing the necklace her father gave her on her eighteenth birthday mollified Elizabeth a great deal. Jane would look positively ethereal in blue as her pale skin and fair features were washed out in white.

"I believe we have an accord." Elizabeth grinned, but it was short lived.

A door slammed below and all they could hear was wailing. Jane looked at Elizabeth, who looked back, and both girls tossed the garments to the side and rushed out the bedroom door and down the stairs.

They appeared breathless behind their father who was standing in the doorway to the parlor. Kitty was flopped on the sofa, sobbing, while Lydia was screaming at their mother in the middle of the room.

"And then Lady Lucas said her daughters would not be permitted to socialize with women that men find convenient!" Lydia finally noticed Elizabeth standing behind their father and turned her rage on her. "You! This is all YOUR fault!"

Mr. Bennet calmly stepped a little to the right and intercepted his youngest daughter lunging in the general direction of his two eldest.

"Lydia Marie, so help me I will turn you over my knee. Cease this caterwauling this instant! Same goes for you, Kitty!

Catherine Bennet lifted her head from the sofa and looked at her father with red-rimmed eyes and a wet nose. Disgracefully wiping her face with her sleeve, she moved to sit up on the sofa as Lydia plopped down next to her still white hot with anger.

"Girls! Girls! What is this? I shall go talk to that puffed up woman this instant!"

"No, you shall not. You too shall sit down, Mrs. Bennet." Mr. Bennet looked back at his oldest daughters. "Ladies?"

Elizabeth and Jane shrugged at one another and entered the room to find their own seats.

"Now, we are just missing—" He took a few steps backward and called up the stairs. "Mary! Your presence is requested!" Then Mr. Bennet disappeared to the dining room to retrieve a chair for himself. Returning to the parlor at nearly the same time as Mary, he placed the chair near the window and found his seat. With no seats left, Mary simply stood next to her mother seated on the sofa.

"Let's begin with Catherine. What happened today? You must not start crying again or I will ask Lydia, understood?" Mr. Bennet appeared to be serious, but Elizabeth was mortified at the mock trial her father was making out of all of them, and only she could see it.

Kitty related how she and Lydia walked into town and stopped at Lucas Lodge to collect Maria and shop for trinkets and baubles for the ball. When they arrived, the housekeeper refused to let them in and fetched Lady Lucas. Despite hearing Maria come to the door just behind her mother, Lady Lucas told both Kitty and Lydia that Maria was not at home.

"And that's when Lydia said 'we can see her, you old bat' and Lady Lucas became very angry and shouted a bunch of things at us about Lizzie accepting gifts from Mr. Darcy and everyone knows she and he meet in secret, and that's when the door was slammed in our faces." Relating the last bit, Kitty again was overcome with emotion and began to cry.

"See, it's all her fault, Papa!" Lydia moved to stand up from the sofa, but Mr. Bennet held his hand out.

"Is all of this true, Elizabeth?"

Elizabeth's stomach felt like it had fallen to somewhere by her knees. She gulped and answered her father. "I can explain."

Mr. Bennet scowled and stood up to face the window. Elizabeth held her breath as she had never seen her father so angry, and waited to be asked to speak again.

"Mary, Jane, what do you know about this? Have you helped Elizabeth in her secret assignations with Mr. Darcy?"

"No, Papa! I've never, that is—"

"Bite your tongue, Elizabeth Rose. I will hear your pleas in a moment." Her father's eyes were like stone as he stared down his favorite daughter into silence. "Mary?"

Mary Bennet looked around the room, trying to seek assistance from any of her family members. Finding no one would speak up for her, Mary took a deep breath.

"No, I would not and have not assisted Lizzie in meeting Mr. Darcy. But I did hear Mrs. Cummings and Mrs. White gossip about Lizzie in church. They said some very dreadful things."

"I see."

"Please, Papa," Elizabeth whimpered, looking down at the floor. Her father ignored her.

"And Jane?"

"Mr. Bennet, we're all ruined! You see what your girl has done to us?" Mrs. Bennet shrieked, her face red with the effort she had made thus far to keep quiet. "Are you happy now, missy? When your father's gone and the entail takes over, we'll all be thrown out! We'll have nowhere to live!"

"That is enough! Lydia, Kitty, please take your mother upstairs and help her calm her nerves."

"But!"

"Lydia, I shall not repeat myself."

Slowly the two youngest daughters helped their mother up the stairs as she continued to cry and whine about the family's ruination. Once they were behind her parents' bedroom door, the cries became a soft muffling. With only this three eldest daughters still with him, Mr. Bennet could hear the sound of Elizabeth's quiet crying. Sighing, the man seemed to deflate under the stress of the afternoon and returned to his chair.

"Papa?" Jane asked, tentatively.

Mr. Bennet rubbed his eyes with his thumb and center finger of one hand, attempting to relieve the pressure in his head. "Yes, Jane. Go ahead."

"Lizzie is in love with Mr. Darcy. But he doesn't know it and she's never had a romantic liaison with him, sir."

Mr. Bennet laughed and muttered to himself. Jane looked over at Elizabeth who was no longer crying and instead glaring at her older sister with shock over her disloyalty. Feeling pity, Jane offered her a warm smile because in her heart, she just knew everything would work out for the best.

"I said that I hate him, Jane. I HATE HIM!" She clenched her fists in frustration, beyond crazy with the whirlwind of speculation and lies that were being slung about her.

"Jane, Mary, please excuse us." Mr. Bennet rose and helped Elizabeth up. "I think it's time I speak with your sister, in private." The two remaining daughters nodded obediently and Elizabeth had no choice but to be steered to her father's study.

Depositing her in the chair across from his desk, Mr. Bennet kept his back to her and turned around with two glasses of port, albeit one of them with very little drink in it.

"Drink this."

Her hands shaking, Elizabeth swallowed the shot and coughed at the burn. Wiping her mouth, she accepted a handkerchief from her father and worked to restore her sensibilities.

Leaning back in his chair, the wood creaked and Mr. Bennet responded by leaning forward and taking another swallow of his own drink. "Now, let's see if we can't solve this problem together, shall we my dear?"

"Please, Papa, I didn't intend to—"

"Ssssh, ssssh, that's all worthless worry my daughter. Your mother's gossiping and the lack of manners of your youngest sisters had their own hands in getting us all into this mess, and I failed to stop you from your curiosity." Mr. Bennet's face remained grim and once again Elizabeth struggled to find the words to respond to her father's sudden dose of hubris.

As if reading her mind, he suddenly cleared his throat. "Don't be surprised, I know my own failings and live them well."

She shook her head in disbelief and found her hands still shaking, so she clasped them and rested them on her lap.

"I believe it's past time for me to request an audience with this young man. Did he truly purchase you a book from Hopkins?"

"A fashion magazine."

"What? A fashion—?" Mr. Bennet couldn't stop howling with laughter. He had kept a keen eye on his daughter for the last few weeks and noticed she was not at all indifferent to Mr. Darcy since the day she saved him. The fact that she had chosen one of those silly style guides from the London clinched it for him. Catching his breath, Mr. Bennet managed to regain a serious tone. "I will ride out today and tell him he must marry you."

"No, you can't! Please Papa, he doesn't like me. It would be a marriage of the cruelest kind." Fresh tears began to develop on the edge of Elizabeth's eyes, and she defiantly refused to blink and allow them to fall.

The wretched state of his daughter before him made his heart break. He turned around to purposely take longer to find parchment and ink so she could regain control. Returning to the desk, he began scribbling furiously.

After a few moments, Elizabeth began to become agitated at his silence. "Surely you're not writing Mr. Darcy a letter?"

"Mr. Darcy? Heavens, no. I'm sending an express to your uncle for him to expect you and Mary to arrive tomorrow. You should go upstairs and pack your trunks."

"London?"

Mr. Bennet continued to write and waited until he finished his thought. "Yes, Elizabeth. Despite what we'd like for the situation to be, your presence here is eliciting gossip of the worst kind."

"But the ball!" Elizabeth remembered Mr. Darcy approaching her after church and never getting to say what he meant to speak. She was convinced now that he was going to ask for her hand for a dance. Maybe even the first one like Mr. Bingley asked of Jane.

"I'm sorry, but my cousin is to arrive in two days' time and even your mother does not know. If your Mr. Darcy doesn't realize his idiotic behavior during the ball and ask for your hand in marriage, then I'm afraid the entire situation might travel beyond our small hamlet full of neighbors with nothing better to do than to discuss one another's dirty linens."

Elizabeth shook her head. She was being banished to London, and with Mary? It couldn't be true!

"But why not Jane? Why must Mary come with me?" With so many of her plans crumbling in her mind, Elizabeth grew frantic in her calculations. Mary hated any socializing and she would be stuck listening to her sermonize all afternoon in Aunt Gardiner's sitting room.

"Don't be selfish, Lizzie. Jane must stay here and you know why. I cannot send you by yourself without confirming that I am sending you away for wanton behavior. If a sister accompanies you, it is merely a visit. Would you prefer Kitty or Lydia?"

She frowned and lowered her shoulders. "No thank you, Papa." She took a breath and realized he made complete sense. His plan was the only chance at saving the family's reputation.

"I'm truly sorry," she said, and she rose to walk around the desk and hug her father. A small fear niggled at the back of her mind that she might not see him again for a long while.

"I'm sorry, too, my dear. I'm sorry, too." He pressed a kiss to her hand as he shooed her away to the door. He didn't know the intricacies of packing that women must do, but he knew it always seemed to take them an inordinate amount of time and he was set on placing both of his daughters on the post carriage first thing in the morning. He had just finished his letter with a clear note to his brother to allow both Lizzie and Mary extra money for a dress or two.


	6. Chapter 6

_A/N : There are only 8 chapters in this little novella, the first JAFF I published. And I'm sorry for posting so far between, I am just swamped with the publication of Book #5 in my novel series that's publishing this month. That will be the 19th JAFF story I have written and published :) I can't decide if #20 will be For Love of a Bennet or A Summer Spouse (Book 7 in the novella series). Anyway, LOVE LOVE LOVE Elizabeth Bennet in this chapter. - Elizabeth Ann West_

Elizabeth rose extra early to take a short walk before spending most of the day jostled about in a carriage. She left without a bonnet despite the morning's crisp chill and scurried to her favorite prospect, the one that began this entire mess. Coming to the crest of the hill, she was surprised to see Mr. Darcy holding the reins of his horse. He stared out over the countryside with his back to her. The horse, whether by scent or sight, noticed Elizabeth and began to move his head in her direction, attracting Mr. Darcy's attention.

"Miss Elizabeth!"

"Mr. Darcy," she replied coolly, with a curtsy. Turning and looking behind her, she contemplated simply returning down the hill without another word to him: the man now responsible for her banishment to London. If anyone saw them here, the gossip would become ten times worse. Still, Elizabeth remained to satisfy her curiosity.

"Why did you purchase my magazine, sir?"

Mr. Darcy was shocked out of his admiring glance of Elizabeth, with her wild hair and bright cheeks from her morning exercise. The woman didn't dally with niceties, and it was a newness that still baffled him.

"How are you this morning?"

"Perfectly fine, now an answer if you please?"

Darcy walked a few steps closer to her, making his horse happier. He stopped close enough that the horse's muzzle could once again reach Elizabeth and she politely held out her hand to greet the animal.

"I am, that is, I did not mean—" he struggled to come up with an answer, and it was infuriating. Never was Fitzwilliam Darcy so tongue-tied as when he was in the presence of this woman. How could he tell her he was remorseful for how he treated her when he was ill then surprised to hear how she had loved the book he had read and planned to give it to his sister? The explanation didn't make much sense to him, and he was the one who knew it to be true.

"Was it out of gratitude?" she offered, after feeling unable to endure his stare.

He nodded. Simplified, it was the most straightforward explanation, and he thought she might be happy until she scowled and turned away.

"Good day, Mr. Darcy," she said as she began to walk back down the hill.

Thoroughly confused, Darcy stood there for another moment, wondering what he had said that was wrong? He indeed was grateful she had tended to him while he was sick. If she hadn't run off, he would have asked how gratitude was a black mark on his character, but alas, he was too slow to enjoy a witty tête-à-tête.

His horse let out a loud whinny, and Mr. Darcy absently patted the animal's neck. Admitting he agreed with the beast's sentiments, though why his steed was so acutely keen on Miss Elizabeth, he couldn't say.

Darcy mounted and began riding in the opposite direction. The thrill of the gallop down the hill made him forget entirely about asking Miss Elizabeth to a dance set. It wasn't until he was halfway back to Netherfield and contemplating plans to avoid Miss Bingley that he groaned in exasperation at himself.

The long march home in time to catch the post stung Elizabeth's heels as she purposely ground each step down as hard as she could. So he now knew what she had done for him, and all he could feel was gratitude? Had nothing that she and he shared meant anything at all?

The feelings of tending to Mr. Darcy flooded her memories, and she stopped for a moment to take one final appreciative view of her home county. The pain of unrequited admiration was a new sentiment for her. Elizabeth now understood why the poets wrote so dramatically about the heart. Bitterness at being so wrong in her affections and now suffering a trip for who knew how long to her relations in London was more despair than she thought possible to endure.

Wiping the small threat of tears from her eyes at the line of her family's property, she resolved there would not be another tear shed for Mr. Darcy. A firm countenance set, she reminded herself that in any other circumstance, she would be overjoyed to visit her favorite aunt and uncle. And it was with this attitude that Elizabeth later boarded the carriage to her uncertain future happiness.

Odors of an unbathed man and a screaming child made most of the trip to London an uncomfortable excursion for both Elizabeth and Mary Bennet. As the carriage neared the final post stop, Elizabeth leaned out the window to see if their uncle was waiting for them. To her dismay, there was no sign of him, and the tightness of fear gripped her heart. Steeling her gaze, she looked to Mary next to her and gave a slight shake in the negative, and watched her sister pale.

Disembarking from the coach, Elizabeth stepped closely to Mary as the two entered the inn. The main room was loud and rambunctious as the late afternoon sun was beginning its reign over the sky. Elizabeth's eyes adjusted to the dimness, and she spied a table near the main bar where she hoped the proprietor would be vigilant. Dragging Mary over to the table, she ignored the sneers and glances their way from various men already in their cups.

The table was mostly clean, except for a few dried food bits on the edges. Elizabeth sat facing the door with Mary sitting across from her. This was a mistake. A man approached their table and helped himself by sitting next to Mary.

"What's a couple of nice ladies like yous doing traveling alone?" The man's breath was most foul, and Mary leaned away. She stood up and quickly moved to the other side of the table to sit next to Elizabeth.

"Don't talk to him," Elizabeth whispered under her breath, fervently praying her uncle would arrive. Mary nodded her head in agreement.

"What, you're too good to talk to the likes of me?" The man's speech continued to slur as he became belligerent. "Oy, gents, look at these two lost birdies." As his companions cheered when he turned around, Elizabeth could feel Mary edge even closer.

Emboldened by his mates, the man stood up from his chair and walked behind the women. Both cringed as he lifted an arm to place it on Mary's shoulder, and Elizabeth decided to act. With a swift movement, she jerked her elbow back and connected with the man's most private area.

He howled in pain and reached up to grab Elizabeth by the hair. She screamed, and the entire situation seemed lost when a man's voice suddenly broke through the din.

"Unhand that woman or lose it! Your choice friend." Mary looked up from where she sat next to Elizabeth. Her eyes followed the cold steel pressed against the drunk man's arm up to a handsome, chiseled face belonging to a man wearing His Majesty's crimson red.

She gasped and protectively hugged her sister as the drunk man removed his grip, and Elizabeth collapsed forward. The drunk slowly tried to rise as the sword remained fixed on him.

"Don't want no trouble, no trouble at all."

"I should run you through on principle alone, but you're lucky I've killed more than enough for a lifetime." The unfamiliar army colonel stared the man down as he backed away to rejoin the table of his friends. Satisfied, the hero sheathed his sword and bowed to the ladies. "Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam, at your service."

Mary implored Elizabeth to speak for them as she was far less traveled than her sister, and the entire ordeal was overwhelming, to say the least. Instead, Elizabeth took several deep breaths in and out trying to gather herself.

Sensing their distress, the colonel waved back at his table. A young woman with perfectly pinned blonde hair and a lavender silk gown hastened to his side.

"You poor dears! Are you unharmed?"

Finally, Elizabeth looked up and was startled to see a set of chestnut eyes she recognized, but shook her head to erase her mind's aggravating memory. The young lady smiled at her, and Elizabeth tried to return the smile, though it was feeble.

"Oh, where are my manners? I'm Georgiana Darcy, and this is my cousin, Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam. We saw you in trouble and hoped you wouldn't mind the intrusion."

"Certainly not!" Elizabeth burst out, with a laugh, finally returning to her old self now that she felt safe again. And the woman's name was an irony she couldn't escape. "I'm Elizabeth Bennet, and this is my sister, Mary Bennet. We are from Hertfordshire to visit our relatives in London."

The young girl squealed and stamped her foot, spinning around to share her glee with her cousin before remembering herself and composing her behavior. "Richard, can you believe our luck?"

Mary and Elizabeth exchanged looks and shrugged.

"May we join you?" Georgiana asked, still bubbly with excitement.

The Bennet sisters could hardly refuse, and Elizabeth certainly didn't wish to do so. Without missing a beat, she immediately asked if the woman was a relation of Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy.

"Indeed, he is my brother! We are on our way to see how he fares after his accident. It was your family, was it not, that saved him? Pray, how is he?"

Elizabeth's mind immediately flashed back to the moment she spied Darcy's handsome face, unconscious in the ravine below. Her momentary pause allowed Mary to speak up for the first time.

"It was my sister Elizabeth who discovered Mr. Darcy shortly after his accident. She even threw a snake to save him!"

His interest piqued, Colonel Fitzwilliam finally took a seat and motioned for a bottle of wine to be brought to the table. Now with three ladies under his protection, he was adamant to hear a good story out of the ordeal.

Elizabeth sat there dumbstruck as Mary continued to talk and talk with Georgiana Darcy. She told all about how Elizabeth had charged his horse down the hill and taken care of her brother when he was feverish. Mary even included how Lizzie had challenged that vile Caroline Bingley woman. It was clear for all the times that Mary sat quietly, almost unnoticed by all, she was taking plenty of observations around her!

"Mary, please!" Elizabeth finally interjected as she noticed the colonel giving her more and more pointed stares.

Mary took a sip of wine from the glass so graciously poured by the colonel. "Wherefore putting away lying, speak every man truth with his neighbor: for we are members one of another."

The door to the inn suddenly opened and a man in fine clothing hustled inside to look around him. Elizabeth immediately recognized him and waved her petite hand in the air.

"Thank the Lord; you girls are safe! My horse threw a shoe, and I had to hire a hackney cab. Please accept my apologies."

"We were perfectly entertained, Uncle Edward. May I introduce you to our new acquaintances, Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam and his cousin, Georgiana Darcy? Miss Darcy's brother is an acquaintance of ours from home."

Uncle Edward removed his card from his pocket and handed it to Colonel Fitzwilliam. The typeface was bold and clearly stated Edward Gardiner, Fine Goods Importer, Gracechurch Street, London. Edward Gardiner raised his eyebrow at the name Darcy, remembering that was the young gentleman mentioned in the express from his brother Bennet.

"Pray, how singular that you should meet in an inn on the outskirts of London," he mused.

The colonel coughed and looked at Mr. Gardiner. "There was some untoward behavior by a few of the patrons toward your nieces, and I felt obliged to step in."

Paling at the revelation his nieces were in danger, Elizabeth stood up, causing Colonel Fitzwilliam to rise as well. "Fear not, Uncle, it was mere words, and we are fine. Thank you, Colonel, Miss Darcy for the wonderful repast. We wish you a safe journey onward."

The trio heading to London left to hurry home before dark, and the two cousins similarly entered their carriage to seek their destination. After a few minutes, Georgiana finally broke the quiet.

"It is too bad the Miss Bennets are to London; I should have dearly liked to enjoy their company again."

His mind reeling, the colonel was quickly connecting the pieces of information in his possession from Darcy's letters about Miss Elizabeth and witnessing the woman's spirit first hand. He couldn't help the mischievous grin from softening his battle-scarred face.

"I have a feeling we will find ourselves in the company of Miss Bennet and Miss Mary before we know it. Yes," he said as he winked at his younger cousin, "before we know it."


	7. Chapter 7

_A/N: Love this story... thank you for reading and sharing your thoughts! - Elizabeth Ann West_

_***_

_No more sadness, no more moping._ That was the creed she whispered once more under her breath. Another morning of gray sky in London greeted her from the window, and Elizabeth Bennet listened to her sister Mary snoring softly beside her. Gently rising, Elizabeth wore her nicest frock and promised herself that today would be exciting. Back home, her other sisters would be readying for the ball. Her aunt and uncle had wisely planned an outing to the theatre despite Mary's complaints that she was still too fatigued from traveling to possibly attend.

Greeting her uncle at the breakfast table, Elizabeth enjoyed a cup of tea while he drank the stronger coffee that was available.

"Do you have any new shipments coming in?" Elizabeth asked while buttering her toast. Her uncle didn't lower the newspaper as he answered that he might. Miffed, Elizabeth looked back at her plate and didn't see him lower a corner to wink at her.

Shuffling the paper closed, Uncle Gardiner realized his brother Bennet had not been overdramatic when he described Lizzie as despondent. He took a sip of his coffee and caught his niece's eye when she finally looked up at him.

"We received a ship earlier this week, that is why I was so pressed to meet you and Mary at the inn. I am going down to my warehouses this morning if you'd like to tag along?"

Elizabeth's eyes sparkled, and she happily nodded as her aunt entered the room. "We'll raid the silks you have, Edward when I come this afternoon to collect Lizzie and take her and Mary to the modiste."

Elizabeth began to protest that she and Mary had brought plenty of dresses with them when her Aunt Gardiner gave her a quick hug around her shoulders.

"Darling, of course, you did, but you're here to have a bit of fun, and nothing is better than a new dress. Or two to wear to the exhibition and perhaps a few other surprises along the way!"

Delighted, Elizabeth's eyes widened at the mention of the Royal Exhibition of antiquities from ancient Greece and Rome. She had dearly wished to see the vases and statues but feared, without a planned visit to London, she would miss them before they were put away for the holiday season.

Elizabeth finished her breakfast and announced she fancied a walk in the park next door before attending to the warehouses with her uncle. The two Gardiners exchanged a look and silently agreed that walking unattended was a poor idea given the circumstances. Instead, Uncle Gardiner downed the rest of his coffee, kissed his wife, and announced he was ready to depart.

In the carriage, Elizabeth watched as the London streets readied for a day of wandering wares and children quick to run any errand for a coin or two. The ride was of a short duration as her uncle purposely resided close to his warehouses though he could easily afford a more stylish neighborhood. As he opened the door and allowed Elizabeth to step in to see dozens and dozens of wooden crates before her, her Uncle had another secret to share.

"In the far corner over there, you'll find many new books recently from American shores courtesy of my tobacco dealer."

Squealing, Elizabeth wasted no time in shedding her pelisse and gloves in her Uncle's office. She donned the apron usually reserved for her aunt's use.

Hours later, covered happily in tobacco dust and holding two precious treasures of novels by American authoress Susanna Rowson, her aunt came to collect her with a most displeased look. Ordering Elizabeth to make use of the basin in Edward's office, Elizabeth complied, while thinking about which novel she planned to read first. As she washed up, she decided on _Charlotte Temple_.

Once she was done, Elizabeth joined her aunt in the cloth area of the warehouse and found herself smiling at the prettiest apricot muslin. Images of the gown with rosettes on the shoulder immediately came to mind, and she begged her aunt and uncle for a few yards of the fabric. With laughter, the two readily agreed, and Mary, Elizabeth, and Madeline Gardiner carried out yards of material to the carriage.

Her slippers had barely brushed the cobblestones in front of her aunt's modiste when a voice called out her name.

"Miss Elizabeth! Miss Elizabeth!"

Cringing, Elizabeth regretted turning around as soon as she recognized the voice belonged to no other than Mr. Wickham.

Ever the perfectly performing gentleman, Wickham graciously condescended to carry all of the fabric from the carriage for the ladies after introductions were made. Before he could leave, Mr. Wickham generously complimented both her aunt and sister, though only the older woman seemed pleased by the attention.

"It is a wonder to see you here in London, Mr. Wickham. Were you not anticipating Mr. Bingley's ball this evening?" Elizabeth asked, with a raised eyebrow.

"Regrettably, I was most inclined to attend the ball. However, a lowly soldier like myself must make his way in the world, and the good impression of his superiors is the surest way. Colonel Forster had a most urgent message to headquarters, and the good Captain Carter allowed me the pleasure of delivering it."

"How happy for you that missing the ball will come with its own benefits."

"Forgive me, Miss Elizabeth, but you too appear to be forgoing the ball. I hope there was no painful reason for your absence?"

Elizabeth gasped that Mr. Wickham would bring up the gossip of Meryton, but calmed herself expertly. Today was determined to be a happy day even if she had to force every moment to be so.

She laughed to cover her true emotions. "Fear not, Mr. Wickham. My sister Mary and I were planning to visit my aunt and uncle for ages."

Mary took a deep breath through her nose and sensed that her sister was struggling to keep up the charade. Steeling herself for conversation she rarely deigned to engage in, she felt it was her Christian duty to be helpful.

"We are planning to visit the Royal Exhibition in a few days, and the theatre this evening. It's unfortunate that you must hurry back to Hertfordshire, Mr. Wickham, and are unable to enjoy London."

"Indeed, with the streets so nearly deserted, it feels like we have the whole city to ourselves!" Elizabeth again chuckled and looked at Mary, beaming at the sister she had never given enough notice. She breathed more comfortably, knowing that Mary was on her side to help stymie the vicious words and lies being swapped like extra vegetables from the garden.

"How fortunate then that I can inform you I have a week of leave to enjoy the sights and diversions of London myself! Mrs. Gardiner, with your permission, I would be delighted to escort you and your nieces to the Royal Exhibit perhaps on Monday?"

Wearily, Mrs. Gardiner thanked Mr. Wickham and gave him the direction of the home so that he may call.

Wickham bowed and smiled as he exited the shop. He couldn't believe his luck, both to stumble across Miss Elizabeth and to hear of their plans. Wickham had watched the Gardiner carriage from his horse once he learned where Darcy's little mistress had scurried away to, but he wasn't surprised to see the woman shopping for finer things. It would take more charm than usual, but he was determined to weasel his way in and take away the first woman he had seen Darcy pay attention to in years. After all, he owed Darcy a comeuppance.

Netherfield Park was illuminated with torches for a full mile from the drive to the grand staircase entrance, and Mr. Darcy finished his preparations as his older cousin barged into his room.

Without so much as a word, Richard helped himself to a glass of Darcy's personal brandy and found a comfortable seat by the fire.

"A toast! To never worry about the color of my dress coat!" Richard grinned devilishly as he drank more of the spirits and Darcy scowled at him in the mirror.

Darcy fastened his cufflinks and poured himself a glass as well.

"You won't be so smart when you are sought after as the son of an earl."

"Second son of an earl. Far too low, even for these mamas."

Darcy shook his head. He could think of one particular mother who would have no qualms at all about throwing her daughters into the arms of an army colonel, earl's son or not!

"I think you underestimate the perceived value of the military in this neighborhood."

Richard shrugged as a petite hand knocked on the door, and Georgiana Darcy stood very demurely in a gown of all white. Both gentlemen stood up and bowed as she curtsied and giggled and Darcy had to catch his breath. His sister was a grown woman before him, and all he could think of was the small, knock-kneed little girl who begged him to give her ride after ride on her pony.

"Georgie, you look splendid!" Richard was the first to approach his cousin and kiss her hand.

Frowning, Darcy realized the number of militiamen who would be in attendance, though not a particular one he had managed to manipulate into running an errand to London. He offered his arm to his sister.

"Don't worry, Brother, I shall not dance and simply observe the evening." She tried to break through his frozen facade with a smile and was rewarded with a view of his usually disguised dimples.

"I'm sorry Georgiana, this is more difficult for me than I imagined. But better a ball in the countryside for your first exposure to the marriage market than the drawing rooms of Lady Sefton."

Together, the orphaned siblings of Pemberley descended the stairs as the receiving line came to a close. Happy his cousin and sister had arrived, Mr. Darcy was able to forgo the first set with Caroline Bingley. His cousin, the second son of an earl, took precedence over himself as a lowly, though wealthy, gentleman.

Darcy escorted Georgiana close to Miss Charlotte Lucas and made the introduction hoping to see Elizabeth nearby. As Miss Lucas conducted the heavy lifting in the conversation with Georgiana, she interrupted Darcy's not-so-subtle inspection of the ballroom.

"She won't be attending tonight," Charlotte whispered as Lady Lucas had happily taken over amusement of Georgiana and introduced her other daughter Maria.

Giving Miss Lucas a furtive glance, Darcy pretended to not know who she was talking about.

"Miss Elizabeth. Her father sent her to London because of the gossip swirling around about you two."

Panic-stricken, Mr. Darcy paled as he listened quietly to the horrific rumors that were circulating about him and Miss Elizabeth. He took great pride in always behaving like a gentleman, and now the one woman of genuine wit and kindness he had ever met was a victim of society's biting tongue. It would not do, not do at all.

Checking that his sister was in safe hands with the Lucas women who as a lowly titled family was already planning calls on Georgiana in London, Darcy offered to escort Miss Lucas to the punch bowl where he could see Mr. Bennet merrily drinking and observing his neighbors. He couldn't very well march over to the man with the entire county watching his every move.

As the two made their way, Mr. Darcy was stopped in his tracks by a short, greasy-looking man who bowed ridiculously low and spoke with too loud a volume.

"Mr. Darcy! May I humbly pay my deepest respects to your honorable person? Your aunt, Lady Catherine de Bourgh, my most generous and magnanimous benefactress, did beseech me to visit my cousin of the estate I shall inherit. I was most delighted to hear of the great service my cousins were able to serve you upon your most unfortunate accident."

Shaking his head at the utter nonsense this man had spouted, Mr. Darcy was on edge as he spied Mr. Bennet beginning to move away from the punch bowl.

"Pardon me, I didn't hear your name, sir."

"Oh, forgive me, I was most negligent in my introduction. It's Mr. Collins, sir, I am the most humble parson of your aunt, Lady Catherine."

"Yes, yes," Darcy answered quickly, keeping a keen eye on Mr. Bennet as he weaved between the groups of people standing around and then exited the ballroom entirely. "Er, Mr. Collins, have you had the pleasure of meeting Miss Lucas?"

"Why no, I should say not-"

"Wonderful, I just thought that perhaps Miss Lucas would care to join the next set?" He looked down upon her and was a little surprised to see Miss Charlotte staring back at him with utter jubilation in her eyes. Thankfully, he had measured the toadying man of his aunt with great care, and his intention was carried out.

"I would be most humbled Miss Lucas if you would join me for a dance." Mr. Collins proudly offered with his chest puffed out.

Glancing at Mr. Darcy and Mr. Collins back and forth, Charlotte struggled for an answer before accepting Mr. Collins' hand. If she didn't agree, she would be prevented from dancing for the rest of the evening, even if she wasn't likely to receive many partners. Perhaps Mr. Darcy would ask her to dance later.

No longer caring who saw him, Mr. Darcy dashed out of the ballroom to look in both directions for signs of Mr. Bennet. Seeing no visible indication of where the man had escaped to, for a moment he feared that perhaps Mr. Bennet returned home after seeing his daughters and wife safely delivered. He decided to worry about that possibility if he couldn't find the man in the few rooms open for the ball. Mr. Darcy started in the dining room to see if Elizabeth's father had simply been hungry.

Only Mr. Hurst and a few men he didn't recognize were loitering around the refreshments but seeing Mr. Hopkins talking with Sir William did spark Darcy's memory. Elizabeth loved books, and he seriously doubted that she derived that love from her mother.

Sliding the heavy wooden door to the library, Darcy stepped in and found his quarry in the first overstuffed armchair with a book and a snifter of brandy in hand.

"She's truly gone? You sent Elizabeth away?" he sputtered, allowing his panic to overcome his sensibilities.

"Ah, I knew you couldn't be that large of a simpleton." Mr. Bennet smirked and put his book down.

"Pardon me, sir?"

"Darcy!" Richard entered the library with Georgiana in tow. "What do you mean by leaving Georgiana alone? We agreed I would dance and you would chaperone."

"Yes, sorry cousin. Not now." Darcy waved his hand, leaving Richard gobsmacked with his sister on his arm. "Mr. Bennet, why is Miss Elizabeth not in attendance this evening? Where is she?"

Mr. Bennet wiggled his fingers in front him, positively delighted to see such a violent reaction from the man he knew his daughter to be in love with. Now he just needed to find out if the response was of a similar loving nature or a carnal bent. Before he could attempt to wheedle it out of the young man, his plans were thwarted by a young innocent.

"Why she's in London to visit her aunt and uncle! We met her and Miss Mary at the Golden Rooster just two days ago!"

Mr. Darcy finally looked at his sister, and a wave of guilt washed over him. He had indeed abandoned her at her first-ever ball on a fool's errand that could have been resolved at any time if he hadn't let his blasted emotions take over his reasoning. For a moment, he once again began questioning the attraction and stirrings he felt for a woman of low-birth who wasn't even in the same county.

"Forgive me, Georgiana. Let us return to the ball," he said with chagrin.

"Oh no, I think not Darcy. We're going to get to the bottom of this once and for all." Richard and Mr. Bennet shared a pert nod in agreement. Mr. Bennet rose to find more to drink as the Colonel began the inquisition after finding Miss Darcy a seat on the nearest sofa.

"Tell me about Miss Elizabeth rescuing you from your accident." The Colonel happily accepted a snifter from Mr. Bennet, noting the man did not offer the same to Darcy. This made him smile before he returned his expression to the hard-lined frown of a weathered soldier.

"There's nothing to note. Miss Elizabeth found my horse and alerted her father, who I assume gathered a group of men and found me in a creek bed where I had been bitten by a snake."

Miss Darcy gasped and covered her mouth with her hand. It wasn't too often she knew more than her brother, and she squirmed with the elation over such knowledge as she looked to her cousin. He smiled and nodded, which was all the prompting she needed.

"Oh Fitzwilliam, she did so much more than that! She found your horse and led him into the woods to find you. Seeing you surrounded by snakes, she fought them off herself, actually picking up and throwing the largest one! Then she rode your horse, even though she's frightfully afraid, all the way down the hill and found her father searching for her and bade him to come help. And she was the one to medicate you when your fever was so violent after the apothecary had gone." Georgiana caught her breath and looked to her cousin for approval. She had done her best to justly recount the speech Miss Mary had given at the inn.

Fitzwilliam covered his face with his hands and sunk into the chair closest to him. "And I was cruel!"

"Now, now, nothing is ever so broken when it's a wound by words," said Mr. Bennet.

Reflecting on the fact that Miss Elizabeth was indeed sent to London, despite his sister's account that it was merely a visit, and the gossip he heard himself after church, Mr. Darcy had a worse confession to make.

"It might perhaps be by deed as well."

"Oh?" Mr. Bennet replied, interested again in the young man.

"Surely you did nothing to raise expectations, you never—"

Darcy held his hand up to his cousin. "I am guilty. I inadvertently met Miss Elizabeth in the book shop and paid, unrequested, for her selection."

"But Brother, that was a gift!"

"Yes, I was purchasing a gift for you, actually, when the shopkeeper told me it was a favorite of Elizabeth's as well, er, Miss Elizabeth's. Without thinking, after I could not even stutter a word to her besides apologies for bumping into her person, I paid the extra for the magazine she had in her hands."

"Don't take too much of the blame. My daughter made her own choices as well and could just as easily left the magazine behind." Mr. Bennet was thoroughly impressed at the loyalty he saw for this young man by his own sister and cousin. He had been under the impression that the man had few relations after the early death of his parents. At least that was the intelligence he had picked up courtesy of a liberal brandy application to Mr. Bingley when Mr. Darcy was first injured.

"Well, I shall go pack my trunk, I believe." Colonel Fitzwilliam announced, rising from his seat.

Darcy stopped wrestling with his personal failings and looked at his cousin. "Whatever for? It's too late. I've ruined things with Miss Elizabeth."

Colonel Fitzwilliam laughed. "For being so rich, Darcy, occasionally you are the poorest man I know!"

Confused, Darcy began to speak, when the Colonel stopped him. "Poor in thought, that is all cousin. Now, since you have bungled this situation beyond repair, I humbly offer to repair with you to London to see if we can't patch up your romance with your lady." He stressed each repair with a phony French accent and ended his pompous speech with a flourished bow.

Georgiana clapped her hands once, nodded her head with her chin out, and rose as well. "You have my assistance as well. It's the least I can do to help secure your happiness after what you've done for me, William." Her voice became quieter and quieter as she finished the statement, but she held a strong posture to show her resolve.

"Wait, how are you two so certain Miss Elizabeth and I are a match?" Darcy was perplexed, as he had only recently realized that she held the qualities of a fierce woman that made his own heart skip a beat every moment he was in her presence. If nothing else, the woman would protect him from the claws of society's harpies, like Caroline Bingley.

Georgiana looked at Richard and left it to her cousin to explain. With that mischievous glint in his eye, the Colonel was happy to reveal a little more about the experience of meeting Miss Elizabeth Bennet at the last inn before London.

"She picked a fight in an inn and won the brawl!" Both Georgiana and Richard laughed as Darcy and Mr. Bennet both looked shocked.

Making a mental note to write a strongly-worded letter to his brother-in-law about the particulars of his daughters' travels, Mr. Bennet felt the need to step in as it appeared plans were being made less and less with spoken words among the Darcy relations than he was comfortable with.

"Might I interject that no one will be going to London with the express mission to court or romance my daughter without MY consent?"

All three of the strangers to Hertfordshire stared at the father of the most courageous woman of their acquaintance, and they all wore the exact same frown of disappointment. The triple-mirrored expressions made Mr. Bennet lose his countenance in laughter, and he doubled over from the ridiculousness of the situation before him.

Catching his breath, the father of five unmarried daughters took a last sip of brandy and clasped Mr. Darcy on the shoulder. Merriment aside, this was his daughter's life.

"Are you true in your intentions for my Elizabeth?"

Darcy nodded and cleared his throat. "I would be a fool to choose any other woman than your daughter. She is an amazing creature, I was too slow to appreciate, and if I can win her affection, I would spend the rest of my days to assure her comfort. Sir."

Mr. Bennet smiled, and he realized that he had no need to worry that this man would only wish to bring Elizabeth into his life for the less honorable relations men of his status would expect. He reached out his hand and shook Mr. Darcy's with vigor.

"Then son, let me tell you a few ideas I have to help you get back on her good side."

The rest of the neighborhood danced the night away, and eventually, Mr. Darcy, his cousin, and sister returned to the ballroom. Feeling as if nothing could impact his elation over a plan to win Miss Elizabeth, with her father's support, Mr. Darcy engaged Caroline Bingley for the supper set. He listened with an ironic ear to her near-constant complaints about the family of the future Mrs. Darcy.

Mr. Bennet remained in the library, sipping his brandy. He finished a most entertaining novel about a duke and duchess arranged to marry each other yet falling in love with one another during a masqued ball, believing they were fated to marry others.


	8. Chapter 8

_A/N: Sorry I've been gone, my sister-in-law (I didn't lose his family in the divorce) just gave birth to her third child! I have hosted my nieces the last few days and PHEW! am I worn out. But back to work! Holding my brand new nephew the other day was so inspiring, I cannot wait to watch him grow up! He's the first I've been living IN Texas when born, and he is #15 grandchild on that side of the family. But he won't be the youngest, #16 is due next month._  
_\- Elizabeth Ann West_

"Aunt, you must listen to me. There is something about Mr. Wickham that does not ring true." Elizabeth tried again to talk her way out of attending the Royal Exhibit with no success.

"I am not saying I do not agree with you, but the invitation is already set. Mr. Wickham will come to call today, and both of you will be escorted. This is how it is done." Madeline Gardiner rubbed her temples as she worked her jaw to relieve the pressure in her head. There were only a few times in her life when she endured these mind-numbing headaches.

"I humbly pray that your pain eases, Aunt. I know you were also looking forward to the antiquities."

Mrs. Gardiner gripped the hand of Mary Bennet and gave the girl a weak smile. Patting her hand, she let it go and breathed through her nose as another wave of pain washed over her.

"The apothecary is on his way, darling." Edward Gardiner strolled into the bedchamber he shared with his wife and took Mary's place at her side. He couldn't help smiling wistfully as, while he hated to see his wife in pain, he knew this would pass and hopefully be the beginning of great news.

Watching the window, Elizabeth knew as much about her aunt's headaches being an early sign of pregnancy as did her uncle, but she forgot that Mary was in the dark. Smoothing her skirts, she finally worked out a plan, and if her aunt wasn't made aware of the particulars, then all the better.

"Mary, perhaps we should wait for Mr. Wickham in the drawing-room?"

Obediently, Mary followed her older sister down the stairs and raised an eyebrow as she walked to the wardrobe to collect both of their winter coats.

"Amy? Amy?" Elizabeth called down the hall towards the kitchens, and the maid suddenly appeared. "Would you please get your things? We're going to leave in just a few moments." Elizabeth flashed a smile to the maid to make it appear nothing was amiss.

"But, but Aunt specifically told us to wait for Mr. Wickham," Mary protested as she simultaneously donned the coat Elizabeth proffered.

"No, she said he would call, and he would escort us. Nothing says he can't meet up with us there and escort us if he can find us."

"But, but—"

Stomping her foot, Elizabeth caused Mary to quiet. "Tell me, do you trust Mr. Wickham?"

Mary chewed her bottom lip and searched her heart. While she didn't have any apprehensions about Mr. Wickham like her sister held, she did judge Elizabeth's intuition more so than her own. Deciding to believe in her sister, Mary shrugged and resumed tying her cloak.

Amy appeared in the hall with her outer coat donned, ready to go, surprised to see the two ladies of the home already dressed. Elizabeth saw her and nodded.

"Right, let's go, we'll hire a cab at the corner."

No sooner had Elizabeth opened the front door for the ladies to exit than there stood Mr. Wickham with a bouquet of flowers.

"My, how punctual you Bennet ladies are!" he mused, handing the flowers to Miss Elizabeth with a debonair smile.

Rolling her eyes, Elizabeth accepted the flowers and dismissively handed them back to Mary, who gave them to Amy, who looked around unsure what to do with them before finally running them back to the kitchen to return with them in a vase.

Standing there, waiting for the maid was unseemly, so Elizabeth had no choice but to step back and allow Mr. Wickham to enter.

Her uncle came down the stairs at the sound of visitors and greeted Mr. Wickham.

"Are you sure you do not wish to go with us, Uncle Gardiner, even if just for a short while?" Elizabeth asked again as she looked to Wickham. The man smiled at her with empty eyes, and it set her teeth on edge.

"I'm sorry, ladies, with your aunt indisposed, I really must wait for the apothecary."

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear Mrs. Gardiner is ill. I hope it's nothing serious," Wickham said.

Taking out his pocket watch, Edward Gardiner dismissed the notion that his wife was seriously ill, and then replaced it in his vest pocket.

"Perhaps we should remain here as well. To make sure all is well for Aunt Gardiner. I could hardly enjoy the ancient artwork and sculpture, knowing Aunt suffers." Elizabeth began to take her cloak off and caught her uncle's frown.

Edward Gardiner had known Elizabeth Bennet since she was eight years old, in the last twelve years he had never known her to play missish once about an adventure out in town. Clearly, there was something amiss, but he wasn't sure if it was the result of a broken heart or something more sinister at work. He eyed the gentleman to escort his nieces more carefully but didn't see anything to worry him.

"No, no girls. You go ahead; you are already dressed. Ah, here's Amy now. Please have fun, and I expect a full report when you return." Edward Gardiner smiled and watched as the young people entered the carriage hired by Mr. Wickham. Satisfied they would be safe, he closed the front door and hummed to himself, distracted again by the thought of a third pitter-patter of little feet hopefully to join the family within the next year.

"Are you certain they are to visit the exhibit today?" Darcy was impatient, having walked up and down the exhibition hall no less than ten times in the hour he and his cousin had been waiting. Hurrying to London on Saturday morning after the ball, his body ached from the abuse it had suffered from staying up all night and then riding all day in a saddle with but only one day of rest.

"Yes, Darcy, now will you cease your pacing? Lord man, it's a good thing you were the firstborn son. The army has a saying of hurry up and wait, to accompany the Navy's standby to standby." Richard gave a hollow laugh as he tapped his rolled-up program of the exhibit in his hand, keeping the steady beat of a most practiced drillmaster.

"Yes, but—"

"Ssssh, I see them."

Startled, Darcy immediately turned around and his shoulders tensed. It took a moment before he realized his cousin had not done the same. "Richard," he hissed. "Richard!"

With no answer, Darcy turned around and saw no one except a crowd of people he neither recognized or of those he did, no one he wished to pay a consequence to at this moment in time. By this time of year, most of the fashionable set had deserted London, and all that remained were the desperately seeking status set. "Where are they? I do not see Miss Elizabeth." He strained his neck for an extra inch on his six-foot frame and craned around to inspect the groups around him.

Managing to not laugh at Darcy's impression of a giraffe, Richard couldn't hide his smirk as he pretended he had made a mistake.

Realizing his cousin had made a sport of him, Darcy's nervousness turned into aggravation. Thanks to their squabble, Darcy was utterly unprepared to see Miss Elizabeth walk into the exhibit at that very moment, with the sparkle of spirit in her eyes that he had seen that first morning waking up in her home, with her hand on the arm of no other than George Wickham.

"Wickham!" Darcy growled, and Richard immediately tensed beside him. Their plan required immediate changes as the two men had intended to casually run into the ladies at the exhibit, invite them for hot chocolate in the small cafe next door where Georgiana and her companion would join them as they had just finished some holiday shopping.

"Darcy, go warn Georgiana off," Richard said as Darcy began to walk towards Miss Elizabeth and their oldest foe. His words failing to register, Richard stepped in front of Darcy, and while he wasn't taller, he was decidedly broader than his cousin. "You must warn Georgiana." He punctuated each syllable to get Darcy's attention.

Finally understanding, Darcy moved to find the exit at the other end so he could double back around the block and get a message to his sister. But not before giving one last edict to his cousin.

"Watch them. Watch her."

With Darcy on his way, Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam followed at a leisurely pace to both calm his temper and to observe the situation. He certainly didn't wish to cause a scene in such a public place, nor risk the reputations of the Bennet sisters in such mixed company.

It was Mary who noticed the Colonel first. After making eye contact with him, her face immediately brightened. She began to nod her head vigorously, but he motioned for her to be still and not to let his presence be known. Quickly, she deflected her eyes to the floor, afraid to give away his position.

The Colonel chuckled in his mind at the tactical prowess of Miss Mary Bennet. He pretended to scrutinize a cracked vase with athletic etchings on the side that was missing a right half, though the missing half was turned away from the public. Near enough now to hear their discourse, his ears pricked up as he started to notice distress in Miss Elizabeth's voice.

"Please, Mr. Wickham. We are moving rather quickly through the exhibit. I want to read a few of the placards."

"What are museums and ancient pottery to the thrills and delights of London? Come, let's finish up here and I'll take you to a real place of fun. You'll love it, I promise."

Elizabeth tried to pull her arm away, but Mr. Wickham held onto it tightly. The crowds of people around them began to grow thicker as the fashionable time of day was upon them. Elizabeth looked behind her; she didn't see Mary or Amy. Still, Wickham continued to pull her arm and walk with such passion; they were nearing the end of the exhibit much too quickly for Elizabeth's tastes.

Again she bucked against him and tried to stop their progress.

"Mr. Wickham, please! We've lost Mary and Amy!" Elizabeth struggled as politely as she could to avoid making a scene. The entire situation was quickly becoming a mess.

Wickham was no fool. He had seen Colonel Fitzwilliam in the crowd behind him as he was more practiced in faking emotions that he did not feel. George Wickham could keep a smile in place and scan a room for marks without any person being the wiser. He had but moments to get Miss Elizabeth out of the exhibit or else his plan would be lost.

As they reached the exit, Elizabeth was now no longer angry about causing a scene and instead was most fearful for her safety. Furtively she looked over her shoulder, and she could finally see Mary bobbing her head above the crowds of people behind her. But what could Mary do?

The sudden cold of London's streets in early December made Elizabeth respond by taking in a sharp breath.

"Wickham!"

"Oho, Darcy! Here to claim your mistress?" Wickham tightened his grip on Elizabeth to the point that it was hurting her arm. She naturally struggled against him, which only made Wickham grip harder. He pulled Elizabeth to him and kissed her hard against the mouth as she rightly screamed in protest.

Three things happened at once as Wickham was suddenly tackled from behind, making him let go of Elizabeth, and Darcy's quick reflexes caught the woman of his heart. Not seeing his attacker, Wickham flailed his arms and connected his fist to the face of no other than Mary Bennet.

"Miss Mary!" Colonel Fitzwilliam managed to exit the exhibit to rush to Mary's side as she collapsed to the ground.

Seeing others begin to notice, Wickham tried to escape from his situation as two very burly men who had just witnessed him hit such a diminutive woman blocked his path.

"Hold him! He's a deserter of His Majesty's Army!" Darcy called out, still refusing to let go of Elizabeth in his arms.

"Come, come, you know that's not true, Darcy. I'm on an errand; I have leave." Wickham began to plead his excuses to the two unknown men who looked very happy to inflict some pain upon the gentleman.

"From Captain Carter?"

Wickham's face fell. "How did you, how do you know that?"

Darcy smiled, finally catching Wickham in one of his own traps. "Bet he was such a great bloke he said not to worry about annoying Colonel Forster with the bothersome paperwork? That he'd vouch for you, no worries about being missed?"

Wickham's mouth flapped up and down, but no sound came out.

Colonel Fitzwilliam had managed to rouse Mary from the ground and offered her his steady arm. He gauged her injuries to be minor. Still, the poor woman would have a monstrous bruise on her cheek come morning.

"What do they teach you ladies in Meryton?" he asked, gently touching just below her injury. Despite her fazed appearance, the Colonel was sure her face was smarting most uncomfortably, and it would hurt doubly so if they didn't get her home for the proper attention.

"Darcy, leave the scoundrel to me and see these ladies home!" The Colonel raised his eyebrow at his cousin until Darcy understood that Mary needed medical attention. With the assistance of the two bystanders, the Colonel began walking Wickham away from the exhibit and towards Army headquarters that lay not two blocks to the south. Regardless of whether what Darcy said was entirely true or not, though he was reasonably confident his cousin had finally tricked the trickster, Richard was sure there would be other charges against Wickham from debts of honor with men of lower rank. The man never could pass up a card table. And if not, he would have him held in the brig until he could find relations of any number of the women he'd ruined.

Darcy looked down at Miss Elizabeth, his Elizabeth, and realized she was still shaking in his arms. Looking back at the exit, he saw the maid the Colonel had pointed to before he left and waved at her to come down the steps to help. Not wishing to leave the ladies so soon, he reluctantly let go of Elizabeth which seemed to jar her back to the here and now.

"Mary!" she shouted and rushed to her sister's side to hold the poor woman who had come most valiantly to her defense.

"I'm alright, truly."

Elizabeth shook her head and pulled her into an embrace as Mary began to sob quietly. She held her there as Mr. Darcy called his carriage, and as the equipage appeared, Elizabeth pulled back to gently stroke Mary's face.

"What were you thinking to lunge like that? You could have been gravely injured."

Mary sniffed and looked up at her older sister before attempting a pitiful half-smile since her face hurt so. "I would have gladly offered him the other cheek as well if they hadn't dragged him away."

For once, Mary's penchant for quoting the Bible made Elizabeth laugh, and she gave her sister another hug as Mr. Darcy assisted her into the carriage.

The coach wound its way through the busy city streets, and Elizabeth snuck a glance at Mr. Darcy sitting on the bench next to the maid. His expression was dark and gloomy as he looked out the window at increasingly less fashionable areas of town.

Dozens of woeful thoughts crossed her mind as the ride was mostly silent. Her mouth still sore from where Wickham had attacked her person, though not nearly as injured as Mary's cheek, brought back to her mind that she was utterly ruined. First, the gossip at home, and now she wasn't even a respectable woman in her aunt and uncle's household. The grief of losing the last shred of her dignity weighed heavily, and her chest began to shake with dry sobs. She adamantly refused to cry and instead hugged her arms to her chest to try to contain her emotion.

Darcy looked over as Miss Elizabeth seemed agitated and he renewed his self-flagellation for being so powerless to protect her. It was his fault that vile creature targeted her, and he was too dull even to realize what a mess he had made of her reputation. As the carriage slowed, indicating they were close to the address of her relations, Darcy was at a loss to explain how he came to escort the ladies home and why they were attacked in the first place.

Doffing his hat, he helped first Miss Elizabeth and then Miss Mary down from the carriage, now noticing the torn pieces of Miss Elizabeth's gown and a sizeable red mark on Miss Mary's cheek.

The door to the townhome flew open as Mr. Gardiner rushed out to collect his nieces.

"My God! What happened?"

Darcy bowed and introduced himself, first to no reaction from Mr. Gardiner and then a sudden adverse reaction as the man looked as if he wanted to spit upon him. Darcy was taken aback.

"You! You're the man who has toyed with our dear Lizzie!"

"Peace, Uncle," Elizabeth interjected, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Why don't we all go in and then we can discuss today's events. I am still a bit curious about all that has happened myself, and I witnessed it firsthand!" Elizabeth tried to raise everyone's spirits as she helped poor Mary into the home.

Leaving the gentlemen downstairs, Lizzie called for another maid to help see to Mary's care and walked her sister to their shared guestroom. Once she tucked Mary in, Elizabeth caught her appearance in the looking glass and was abhorred. The shoulder of her gown was ripped, and it would be unseemly for her to return to the gentlemen in such a state.

Pinning her hair after she removed her gown, Elizabeth pulled out her cream muslin with the apricot rosettes along the shoulder that had arrived just that morning. She had planned to wear the smart gown to the evening of opera her uncle had planned next week, but she was certain once Mr. Darcy told Uncle Gardiner about how Wickham kissed her, she'd be lucky to step two toes out of the house, let alone attend a performance. No matter what she had done, or had not done, it was always the woman's shame to bear.

Satisfied her appearance matched her fiercest spirit within, Elizabeth kissed Mary on the forehead as the maid had just helped her finish a cup of medicated tea.

Borrowed from Jane's book of sisterly affection, Elizabeth locked eyes with Mary's fearful ones and said in a very calm voice, "Everything shall be put to rights. You'll see."

Straightening her gown just one last time, Elizabeth descended the stairs with her chin perfectly straight and her back elegantly postured. Darcy rose from his seat in the sitting room as soon as he saw her reach the landing, his breath caught in his chest at her beauty.

Elizabeth smiled at Mr. Darcy, hoping to have one last kind memory of the man before she was genuinely sure he would be leaving her life forever. Her smile spurred Mr. Darcy to action.

"Miss Elizabeth, I cannot say how ashamed and guilt-stricken I am about everything that has happened. From the gossip in Meryton to today's attack, the fault is mine, and I dearly wish I could erase it all."

Elizabeth looked around, confused to not see her Uncle in the room or hall. Bewildered that she and Mr. Darcy would be left alone, he noticed her study of the situation and continued.

"Your Uncle and I spoke while you tended to Miss Mary. He agreed to give me a few moments alone with you. If you please?" He motioned to the sofa where she could sit with him.

Her feet moved with leaden speed as she felt unable to reconcile the situation she was in with the situation she planned to be in just moments ago. "Mr. Darcy, I—"

"I'm fearful that if I stop what I mean to say another sick twist of Fate will ruin my last chance for a happy and fulfilled life." His eyes glazed over, and quickly, he looked away.

"You are too kind, madam, for a rogue like myself. My God had I only known! I've been on my own for so long, I take it for granted that everything is under my good regulation and control, that I am a man of my own destiny. And yet Destiny was kind enough to cross my path with yours and fought my terrible judgment to ignore your beauty, and wit, and most of all pure charity to others."

Elizabeth's eyes widened. Mr. Darcy had gone mad! The man was not making any sense if he was getting to the subject she thought he might.

"No, stop! There is nothing that can be gained from this line of conversation, Mr. Darcy! I am ruined. Utterly ruined." Elizabeth stood up from the sofa and clenched her fists by her sides.

"Is that your final word then?" He looked blankly at her with the fire of the sun in his eyes, and Elizabeth refused to yield. _For his sake_, she justified in her mind.

"Yes. You cannot seek a future with me. Not out of the kindness of my position for the acts I performed to save your life, and certainly not after what happened today."

Darcy looked at the woman before him, so slender in frame, a full head shorter than himself and marveled at the radiance she emanated. He just wished to reach out to her, to relive those perfect moments when she sought solace in his arms.

His memories of her face leaning over him as he had wondered where he was on that forest floor flooded back to him, as did the sensation of holding her hand. When he had done those things, he wasn't completely clear of mind, but he remembered now without a doubt it was she who saved him and no other.

Agitated, Mr. Darcy walked away from her to look out the window, relying on his much-practiced skill to avoid painful situations. Situations where his shyness or others' lack of propriety damaged his confidence. Then it struck him. Words were never their strong suit, but actions spoke volumes.

"Mr. Darcy?" her small voice called out to him, but his ears couldn't register the sentiment as a lion roared in his chest.

Mr. Darcy spun around and took the two steps across the carpet to stand within inches of his beloved. Calmly, and with eyes begging to be understood, he cupped his hands and slowly raised them to her face as she met them to rest her blushing cheeks in the valley they created. She was so warm and soft. Mr. Darcy leaned forward and gently kissed her lips with the heat of a smoldering fire that had been nursed and tended for many weeks.

Rising up on her tiptoes, Elizabeth leaned into the kiss and wound her hands around his head to pull him closer. By the time they both needed to take a breath, neither pulled away, and it was his husky voice that spoke first.

"Elizabeth Rose Bennet. Please, darling, don't be as foolish as me. Say you'll be my wife and together we will face anything."

Elizabeth bit her lip, prompting Darcy to peck her mouth once more lightly. "Anything?"

"Everything."

Smiling, she initiated her first kiss on his person with a decidedly different passion, one of incessant heat that yearned for more from the mysterious unknown. Leaving him breathless, Elizabeth uttered the one word to ease both of their sufferings.

"Yes."


	9. Chapter 9

_A/N: This was my very first JAFF that I wrote, largely for myself. Looking back at it, today I would have turned this into a novel... expanding that time between the Royal Exhibit and the cold toes scene you're about to read. :) Perhaps one day I shall write it as a sequel... The Trouble with Soldiers. :) _

_-Elizabeth Ann West_

Elizabeth's cold toes once more wiggled to find warmth in the covers.

"Good God woman, do you freeze them purposely to torment me so?" Fitzwilliam Darcy cried out, jerking his legs away from the frozen interloper. Listening to his young wife giggle was intoxicating. He decided to brave the cold and pull her body closer to his for a close snuggle. Sucking in his breath, he endured the adjustment as their skin melded and the two of them settled.

"I'm happy Richard is finally selling his commission. When will they be here again, next week or the week after?"

"The week after, my love. And it's only fitting since he has found his heiress." Darcy leaned in to plant soft kisses along Elizabeth's neck, trying to outlast his wife's ever reeling mind until he could distract her into something more pleasant than talking about the day. Instead, she laughed as his breath tickled.

"It doesn't count that he was already in love with Mary, and you made her an heiress by settling five thousand pounds on her!"

"She earned it, for meritorious service in aid of another." Allowing his fingers to roam, Darcy continued to find other ways to communicate his message to his wife.

"I asked Mrs. Reynolds to freshen the Green Suite for them. Do you think Mary and Richard will be pleased?"

Groaning, Darcy released his wife and rolled over to his back. He was frustrated at his failures to distract. "I'm sure whichever suite is the furthest from your mother will be amenable to Richard as he is just married and enjoying his honeymoon."

Elizabeth frowned. It was unfortunate that every member of her family, including the Bingleys who now counted her sister Jane amongst their number, was planning to visit Pemberley for the hunting season. Mary and Richard were finally to take their honeymoon trip to the Lakes, and then ending at the estate for a time of unknown duration.

The clock on the mantle across from the bed struck midnight, and Elizabeth sat up in bed. Her husband looked up at her with one eye open, and then quickly shut it to continue to feign sleep.

"Oh, wake up, Mr. Darcy. Or should I say, sir?"

Waiting a moment, he suddenly awoke and tackled his wife, ignoring her squeals, and pulled her to his chest. "Sir! Sir!" he said as he tickled and caressed until she begged him to stop.

Lightly, he kissed the top of her head and reflected for a moment on how eventful this day had been just one year earlier when he was thrown from his horse. Sadly, his favorite mount grew sick last winter and had to be put down, but without that animal's intelligence and his wife's kindness, he might not be in any condition for the happy life he led now.

Sensing her husband's dark thoughts, Elizabeth looked up at him with her chin resting on his rib cage.

"William, you never told me that horse's name. He died before I came to know him properly."

Darcy closed his eyes once more and squeezed his wife's form in affection. "Trouble. The horse's name was Trouble."

As the clock struck one in the morning, Elizabeth and Fitzwilliam Darcy exhausted from the fruits of loving one another slept soundly. Not with nightmares of snake attacks or Wickham's schemes, but with happy visions of a future full of love, family, and the good sense to never ride out alone again.

.


End file.
